The Granger Principle
by Starfox5
Summary: It seemed like a routine assignment for CI5 officers Ron Weasley and Harry Potter: Investigate a physicist who had caught the attention of some unsavoury elements. Little did they know that Dr Hermione Granger would turn out to have more secrets than Ron would have thought possible.
1. Chapter 1: The Routine Assignment

**The Granger Principle**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the Harry Potter books or movies. I do not own The Professionals or any of the characters of the show.

**Author's Note: **This story is set in an Alternate Universe. Therefore, a number of canon events in Wizarding Britain didn't happen or happened differently.

I'd like to thank fredfred and InquisitorCOC for beta-reading.

* * *

**Chapter 1: The Routine Assignment**

**South Kensington campus, Imperial College London, London, July 5th, 2005**

"And here I thought we'd escaped school for good!" Ron Weasley exclaimed as he looked at the entrance to the South Kensington campus. "But, like in a bad movie, our dark past has finally caught up with us after a scant few years of freedom."

"Very funny," his partner and best mate, Harry Potter, replied. Ron didn't have to look at him to know he would be rolling his eyes. "You know why we received this assignment."

"Bones thinks that it's a safe assignment so you won't end up in the hospital again, forcing her to reassign half a dozen people to cover your absence?" Ron smirked. "She should know better; you've gotten hospitalised on a trip to the supermarket, after all."

Harry snorted. "I recognised and arrested a wanted suspect." And killed two of the man's accomplices, Ron knew, while wounded.

"Well, keep your gun holstered here; Bones takes a dim view of killing students."

"She's obviously too old to remember what they're like," Harry shot back, "or she'd order us to cull the campus of the worst idiots."

"Malfoy graduated in our year," Ron remarked.

His friend snorted in response. "He wouldn't be caught dead in a physics department, anyway. Unless it's to 'pick up birds'."

"Well, not this bird," Ron said, pulling out her picture from his pocket. "She's far too plain for his taste." And probably far too smart, too - Dr Hermione Granger was his age, and already leading a research team at the facility.

"Dash my hopes that whoever took an interest in Ms Granger would turn out to be Malfoy, and we could shoot him in the line of duty, will you?" Harry sighed.

"That would have made this boring job worthwhile." Ron shook his head. "For someone with her past, she certainly leads a very boring life."

"I can understand that," his friend said in a flat voice.

A glance told Ron that Harry had narrowed his eyes at him, and he resisted the urge to wince - he had put his foot in it there. "Sorry." His friend didn't like to be reminded, however inadvertently, of the reason he was famous, at least among certain people in their line of work. "You're not living a boring life, though," he pointed out.

"I wasn't kidnapped at the age of eleven, disappearing for seven years before being found," Harry retorted. "And however unpleasant our school was at times, we weren't tortured and abused."

"She doesn't remember any of it," Ron observed. That had been in the news back then, too, he recalled.

"She claims that she doesn't," Harry said. "Her answers during interrogation weren't that convincing, though."

His friend would have read those files, of course, Ron thought. He had stuck with the CI5 file they had received.

"Do you think she's a plant?" The older officers had told them tales from the Cold War, and what the Soviets had been up to… And it would explain how someone could miss years of formal education during her teenage years and still become a top researcher in record time.

"No. DNA tests confirmed her identity, and her reunion with her parents went off without a hitch. That means she is Hermione Granger. Kidnapping an eleven-year-old girl, then sending her back as a spy and having her become one of the best physicists in Britain? That wouldn't make any sense." Harry shook his head. "But Stockholm Syndrome is a thing."

Ron glanced at his friend again. "You think the kidnapper is back."

Harry slowly shrugged. "They never found out who kidnapped her. So, it's that, or someone's really interested in her work. But experimental quantum physics isn't exactly highly classified work. They could get her findings by buying a subscription to a journal."

"Our orders also specify that we should investigate her," Ron pointed out. One of the most famous kidnapping cases, still unsolved despite the victim having been found? No branch of the police service liked that sort of black mark.

"And we'll do so. If she's involved in anything shady, we'll find out." Harry's tone told Ron that his friend didn't think that was the case, though.

"Well, let's get started, then," Ron said, getting out of their car. "But let's just hope Ginny doesn't catch you flirting with a suspect again."

Harry's comment on that would have made Ron's mum gasp.

* * *

Dr Granger really was a plain woman, Ron thought half an hour later, watching her step out of the faculty building in which she worked. And that hair… Though she didn't make any effort to dress up, either - her clothes were boring, straight out of a catalogue for business drones. Even Percy was a sharper dresser. The only item that stood out was an old, beaded bag. The same type of bag, he realised, that she had been found with, back in 1998. Peculiar.

He exchanged a glance with Harry. Granger would be in a meeting with the faculty for at least an hour. Plenty of time to bug her lab and poke around a bit. The two of them stood up from the bench on which they had been sitting and started towards the entrance.

They hadn't taken more than a few steps, though, when Granger looked in their direction - and went deathly pale. He was about to whirl round and look for whatever had spooked her when he heard her stammer:

"Ron? Harry?"

Ron refrained from cursing. How had she made them? Why did she know their names? He was certain they had never met before - something was amiss here.

"I'm sorry? Have we met before, Ms…?" Harry - as usual, smoother than Ron - asked, his head slightly tilted to one side.

Granger shook her head. "No, sorry, I… I was mistaken." Granger smiled, but Ron noticed how tightly she was gripping her bag - her knuckles were turning white. She nodded, then ducked her head and quickly walked away.

Ron watched her go, then looked at Harry. "She recognised us, mate."

"Yes. There must be a leak," his friend replied.

Ron nodded. There was no way Granger would have recognised them unless someone had shown her their pictures. And they wouldn't have done that unless they knew about their assignment. "They moved very quickly," he commented - they had only received their orders the day before.

"Yes," Harry replied. "We need to find the leak yesterday."

Ron knew what he meant. They should alert Bones at once, but that would mean they would be taken off the case. But if they managed to find out how Granger knew… "Bones will blow her lid," he said.

Harry grinned in response.

Ron sighed and shook his head. But he agreed - he wanted to get to the bottom of this himself. He didn't fancy getting ribbed by the other officers about being made by their target, even if it wasn't their fault at all. Well, Creevey would probably be sympathetic - and try to get them to wear his stupid latex masks on their next investigation.

Ron looked at the faculty building Granger had entered. "Think she'll do a runner?"

Harry frowned, then nodded. "I'll take the front."

Ron nodded. "I'll cover the side entrance." They could search her lab later.

* * *

"Professor Smith just left the building," Ron heard Harry through their radio. "Their faculty meeting must be over."

"Only an hour?" Ron snorted. "If that's not suspicious…"

He heard Harry chuckle at his joke. "I haven't spotted her, though."

"Alright." Ron was leaning against the wall next to the side entrance - almost impossible to spot from inside the building.

The door opened, and he tensed, but it was only a couple of students. They stared at him, startled, and Ron flashed his cigarette. Smoking was a great cover to be hanging around outside a building. Not that he smoked, of course. Mum would have his hide and Ginny wouldn't let him hear the end of it, either. But a lighter could come in very handy. Had done so on a very memorable occasion that Bones still brought up when she was mad at them.

He flicked some ash off the tip and watched the couple leave. If Granger wasn't climbing out of a window, she'd have to use this door or the front one.

And there she was! He spotted her brown mane at once when the door opened again. A moment before she saw him - she hadn't walked out, but stopped, he noticed.

He nodded at her. "Ms Granger." Harry would hear him as well, of course.

"_Doctor_ Granger," she corrected him, raising her chin. But he saw her glance around at the other people nearby before she left the building. Checking for witnesses and potential help? It wouldn't be unusual, given her traumatic past.

He pushed off the wall and joined her with a few quick steps. "Going back to your lab?" he asked, to let Harry know they were moving.

"What's it to you?" she shot back.

"Your work sounds interesting," he said.

"Really?" She couldn't have sounded more doubtful if she had tried.

He knew that tone. Greengrass had sounded exactly like that when he had asked about her math class. Ron grinned widely at Granger. "Experimental quantum physics? That sounds like Star Trek!" he declared as enthusiastically as he could.

Judging by the glare she sent him, she didn't like getting mocked. Well, he didn't like her attitude. He was no genius, but he wasn't stupid either.

She sniffed and looked straight ahead, then froze for a moment when she spotted Harry coming towards them from the other side. "The laboratory is off-limits to non-faculty members," she said. "There's a security guard."

They were still thirty yards away from the entrance, Ron noticed. She must feel threatened, he realised, despite her attitude. He made a decision and reached into his jacket. Then he saw her eyes widen as she tensed up, and cursed himself. "We're the police, Dr Granger," he quickly said before she could try to run. He slowly pulled his ID out. "Criminal Intelligence 5. We have a few questions for you."

He wasn't entirely surprised that this didn't seem to reassure the woman.

Ron ignored Harry's glare - their cover would have been blown anyway as soon as Granger yelled for help and they were mistaken for kidnappers. And Ron was certain that the woman would have done so; she had kept an eye on the nearby potential witnesses the whole time. "How about we visit your lab for a more private talk?"

She pursed her lips, and, for a moment, Ron expected her to demand a warrant and refuse to cooperate, to make a scene. But she nodded, if rather curtly. "Don't touch anything," she told them, "some of the instruments cost more than your salaries for the next ten years - combined."

"We're paid a little more than the average police officer," Harry said.

"I assume you are," she retorted. "But these instruments are very expensive and quite delicate."

"Should we break something, I'll buy you a new one," Harry shot back with a scoff. Ron knew his friend didn't think his money meant he was better than anyone else, but Granger's snippy comments and attitude were a little too close to Malfoy's snobbery, at least in Ron's opinion.

Granger didn't seem to be impressed, though. "I'll expect to be reimbursed for the time lost waiting for the replacement parts to arrive as well," the woman said with a sniff as she opened the door to her lab.

"No Tardis?" Ron joked as they entered a rather narrow hallway. She didn't laugh, but the way she jerked… well, perhaps his first joke hadn't been completely off the mark.

And the laboratory proper… It didn't quite look like it had been lifted straight out of Dr Who, but it certainly looked far more interesting than he had expected. And the faint smell of ozone hinted at rather large amounts of power being used.

"My office is over there," she said, walking at a brisk pace.

She obviously didn't want them to look around. Which, of course, made Ron want to look around. "What's this?" he asked, pointing at a large frame made of metal.

"A quantum mirror cage," she replied. "Don't touch it."

He was about to ask what it did when he noticed her faint smirk. "So you do have a sense of humour," he said with a grin.

She pursed her lips again, frowning, and held the door to her office open without a further word.

Ron wanted to poke the 'cage', but Harry nodded and entered the office, so Ron followed him.

The office was more cluttered than he'd expected of the prim and proper Dr Granger. Almost chaotic, and he would have sworn that she was the type to organise her pencils three times a day. But her desk almost broke under stacks of paper and… "Parchment?" he asked, reaching out towards a scroll.

"Don't touch that!" she barked. "And, yes, it's parchment. One of the only copies of Flamel's notes."

"Flamel?"

"A famous alchemist," she replied, and he thought he caught a hint of a smirk and something else before she schooled her features again. "But you aren't here to talk about history, are you?" She leaned against her desk and crossed her arms.

"We're here for a few reasons," Harry replied. "Someone's interested in you or in your work. Someone with ties to the underworld."

Most would comment on that. Granger, though, tilted her head slightly, silently waiting for Harry to go on. Quite a cool reaction for a kidnapping victim.

Of course, Harry upped the ante. "It could be the same person who kidnapped you before."

That made her flinch. "And you're here to protect me?"

Harry inclined his head.

"Well, I guess additional security won't hurt."

Ron really didn't like her dismissive attitude. "We're also wondering why you knew our names."

"I read a news article about you two when I was looking for the best school to finish my education," she replied. "Two boys helping to catch a wanted criminal? That kind of feat tends to be remembered."

She met his eyes without flushing. Her reason was sound - catching Pettigrew certainly had made the news for a few weeks, and their school had milked it for all it had been worth, so it wasn't too far-fetched that Granger would have read an article about them while looking into schools.

But Ron didn't believe her for a second. She had been shocked when she had spotted Harry and him. She had recognised them, even though they had been kids at the time. And she had used their first names.

He glanced at Harry, whose expression told Ron he had come to the same conclusion. "I see," Harry told her. "That explains it."

A hint of a smile appeared on her face for a moment. "Thank you."

"There's still the issue that someone dangerous could be interested in you or your work," Harry went on.

"I don't think theoretical quantum physics attracts the kind of attention you suggest," she replied.

"I wouldn't go that far," Ron cut in. "Quantum computers are supposed to render all our electronics obsolete. If your work can help with their development, a number of corporations would be willing to spend a great deal to gain access to your research."

Her eyes widened for a moment, and Ron felt irked again. Who did she think he was, an idiot like McLaggen?

But she was already cool and collected again. "In any case, that's your problem now, isn't it? Sorry, your assignment."

"Our assignments don't come with the option to refuse them," Ron told her. He hid his grin at the flash of anger his veiled barb caused.

She raised her chin again. "Well, I've got work to do. Feel free to guard me."

And with that dismissive comment, she sat down and started shuffling papers.

Ron exchanged another glance with Harry. He really didn't like this assignment.

* * *

Apparently, Granger didn't believe in finishing her working day at a decent time. It was now ten pm, and she didn't seem like she was going to stop any time soon. Ron was tempted to ask her if she planned to spend the night in her lab, but refrained from doing so. She probably would do it just to spite him.

After all, the woman had heated up an MRE when Ron had offered to get her a takeaway while getting some grub for Harry and himself. Granted, he had been a little sarcastic, but it had been an honest offer.

MREs… who in their right state of mind would voluntarily eat those? Just to save some time? Granger wasn't a workaholic; she was a workaddict.

"That's not a word," he heard her mutter, half-hidden behind several stacks of paper.

"It'll be one, once the editors of the Oxford English Dictionary hear about you," Ron shot back.

"My hours aren't exceptional at all," she retorted. "Many of my colleagues have similar work days."

"They probably don't want you showing them up," Ron said.

Instead of a biting comment, she snorted. Dear Lord, he had been joking!

"Besides, you're one to talk," she said. "Your friend is sleeping so he can take over for you later."

There had been a minuscule pause before the 'your friend'. What had Ganger wanted to say instead? 'Harry'? Ron shrugged. "We're just doing our job."

"And you think I'm not?"

He almost said that he thought she had no life - but that would have been cruel, given her traumatic past. "I think you're overdoing it a little."

That earned him another snort, and he didn't know why.

"What exactly are you doing?" She hadn't used any of her oh-so-expensive and fragile instruments. She had just made notes. Lots and lots of notes. And with a pen, not even on her computer.

"I'm doing calculations."

"For?"

"Calibrating the quantum mirror cage."

He snorted. "Funny. What are you really doing?"

"I just told you."

If she wanted to play games… "And what does your quantum mirror cage do? Break down the barriers between the dimensions and let the lizard people invade?"

"What?" She seemed more than a little surprised.

"You never watched 'The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai', did you?"

"My interests don't extend to cheap science fiction movies," she replied.

"You've never seen Dr Who?" He took care to sound suitably shocked.

"That's a TV series."

"And that makes all the difference!" He laughed - of course she'd watched Dr Who. What swot like her wouldn't? "So, do you prefer the classic series or the new one?"

"I prefer to think of it as a single series that had a lengthy hiatus," she replied.

"Ah." He couldn't think of a funny comment. "You've got taste, Dr Granger," he said after a moment.

"Thank you," she said, hesitating as well, or so he thought.

She wasn't scribbling down notes any more, either, he noticed. He couldn't resist. "Are you finally done?" he asked. "Since we are here to keep you from harm, we were about ready to drag you out of the lab before you collapsed and got crushed under an avalanche of paper…"

"It's good to know you're a police officer, Mr Weasley," she replied. "Since you wouldn't be a good comedian."

"Ouch!" He put a hand on his chest. "Your wit cuts to the bone. The funny bone."

"You'd have to have one for it to be cut."

Once more, he swallowed a comeback - 'you must have been the life of the party in your teens' - because of her past. "So, are you done for the day?"

"Might as well go home. You're too distracting."

From anyone else, he'd have taken that comment as an invitation to flirt.

* * *

**Greenwich, London, July 5th, 2005**

"You live alone?" Harry asked as they got out of the car near Granger's address.

"Don't you already know everything about me?" she replied.

"Contrary to popular belief, the police do respect your privacy," Harry snapped.

She snorted. "Took you long enough. I felt like a prisoner for a long time after my escape - the police just didn't want to let me go."

"You were a special case," Harry retorted. "And your kidnapper is still at large. Of course we'd try everything to catch them."

She snorted.

"So… do you live alone?" Ron asked.

She looked at him. "Yes." Her expression dared him to comment.

He didn't.

They reached her door. It was an old, cosy-looking building. Three floors, one flat per floor. Granger turned to face them. "I'm leaving for work at half past seven. Just so you don't have to waste your time waiting outside my flat."

"We were planning to wait inside your flat," Ron said.

"The kind of people whom we suspect to be 'interested' in your work could easily break into your flat," Harry added.

"They might have done so already," Ron went on, "and be waiting inside for you to return."

"Really." She gave them a flat stare. Then, after a moment, she sighed. "Whatever - I'm too tired to argue with the professionally paranoid. Let's go. And don't forget to check under the couch for assassins!"

She mumbled something like 'stupid overprotective louts' under her breath, or so Ron thought, as they climbed the stairs to her flat on the second floor. He shook his head behind her back - academics were the worst people to protect. They always thought they knew better than the professionals. Until they were proven wrong, of course.

Although, Ron couldn't help thinking when he spotted the burly man, pistol in hand, moving to block their way, Granger didn't have to be proven wrong quite so quickly. He grabbed her at once, pulling her back and behind him as he drew his own gun.

At the same time, Harry, gun in hand already, yelled: "Police! Drop your weapon!"

The man didn't, so Harry dropped him with a quick double-tap to the head.

Ron turned at once, checking their rear and covering Granger with his body.

Not that she appreciated it. "Take your hands off me!" she snapped behind him.

He ignored her. One man, moving so openly? That screamed 'ambush'. But he couldn't see anyone else.

"Let me go!" Granger yelled.

"We need to get her to safety!" Harry snapped.

Ron nodded, letting his friend pass to check the next floor. "Stay close," he told Granger before releasing her - thankfully, she didn't seem to be panicking.

She scoffed in return, but he was busy sending a message to headquarters to report the shooting. People would have called the police already after hearing the shots - it wasn't the kind of street where that would be ignored - but it was best to avoid misunderstandings. Shooting a police officer in self-defence because you were mistaken for a criminal didn't do wonders for your career prospects.

"Clear!" Harry reported from below.

"Let's go!" Ron moved to guide Granger down the stairs, but she was already moving towards Harry.

That wasn't how civilians reacted to a shooting, he noted. But he had no time to ponder it - they had to get out of here.

"I'm on the ground floor," he heard Harry through the radio. A few seconds later, he and Granger joined him.

"Let's take the back door." If anyone was waiting outside, they would be easy targets.

For a change, Granger didn't comment or protest as they moved through the hallway to the back of the house. The garden behind it was lined with hedges - they'd provide some concealment.

"Left," Harry whispered. That would lead them towards their car. But they had to cross a few fences and hedges.

Ron's phone vibrated. He checked - it was Scrimgeour, Bones's right hand. "Help's on the way," he told Harry. "We can fort up in the hallway and wait."

"No." Harry shook his head. "If there are more of them, we'll be at a disadvantage."

"Crawling through hedges it is," Ron said with fake cheer.

"And breaking and entering afterwards, to pass through my neighbours' houses, I assume," Granger added.

"Exactly!" Ron beamed at her. "You do this often?"

"Can the comedy act," Harry snapped before Granger could reply. "Let's go!"

Ron swallowed his comment about his best trousers getting ruined and motioned for her to follow Harry. He'd be bringing up the rear. "Leave the bag," he told her. "It'll snag on branches."

"I'm not going to leave my bag!" she hissed.

"Suit yourself," he shot back before he remembered that she had had the same bag when she had been found. Another one of his gaffes.

A few minutes later, they had passed through three almost identical gardens, and both Ron's trousers, as well as Granger's, had been completely ruined. Her hair looked even worse now, too, though she didn't complain. And she had kept her bag from snagging on any branches. He was tempted to ask again if she did this often, but Harry motioned towards the back door.

It didn't take him long to pick the lock, and a minute later, they were at the front door, Harry, who somehow looked the most presentable despite having led the way, peering out.

"Car's right across the street," he whispered.

Ron sent Scrimgeour an update. The response came quickly.

"We're to stay put," he told Harry. "Reinforcements are almost here."

"Lost too much time going under the hedges," Harry said. "Moody'd have our hide."

"Moody?" Granger asked.

"Our old instructor," Ron replied. Harry, of course, was glaring at him for that minor breach of security.

"Ah."

Ron was tempted to tell her that Moody was the best damned police officer in England and that his training had saved Harry and Ron's lives several times, but that wouldn't have been a minor breach of security any more. He still loathed her dismissive attitude.

About a minute passed in silence until they heard the sirens, and Ron started to relax a little.

"So much for a safe, simple assignment," he said. "Must be your fault," he added, nodding at Harry.

Granger's snort seemed to surprise her as much as it did Ron and Harry.

* * *

By the time Scrimgeour arrived and took charge, the Metropolitan Police were already busy keeping reporters away from the crime scene.

"Look at the vultures," Ron heard Harry, who was watching through the small window in the door, mutter.

He snorted. "Vultures would have some decency."

"I take it that you've had bad experiences with the press," Granger commented with a slight frown.

"You might say that," Ron replied. "There were a few journalists who took Harry's refusal to give interviews as a personal insult."

"Bloody muckrakers," Harry said.

Ron expected Granger to pry - she seemed the type who couldn't leave something alone until she knew everything about it - but, to his surprise, she merely nodded. Of course, she had had her own experiences with the press, and more recently. He frowned when a disturbing thought came to him. "Better not be seen together, or the Daily Mail will claim you're having an affair." Two semi-famous people with tragic pasts, put together? The tabloids wouldn't be able to resist.

"Damn!" Harry spat. Granger didn't say anything, but judging by her expression, she clearly agreed with the sentiment.

"Scrimgeour won't throw you to the press," Ron said. Partially because the man wanted all the publicity for himself so he could succeed Bones once she was promoted or retired.

"I should certainly hope not!" Granger cut in. "I would rather not suffer further disruption to my work due to the press."

Harry snorted. "They'll find your name soon enough. One of your neighbours will let something slip."

"I'm aware of that," Granger replied with pursed lips. "But that's no reason to make matters worse."

"You're not seriously expecting to go back to work any time soon, are you?" Ron asked. "If we hadn't been with you, you'd have been…" He trailed off. It wouldn't do to trigger her. Even though he really wanted to rub in the fact that they had been correct about her being in danger.

"I'm aware of that, thank you," she snapped. "But I won't hide in some hole and leave my work unfinished!"

"You won't be able to do any work if you're dead or kidnapped," Harry retorted. "Until this situation is resolved, you'll be in protective custody."

"I most certainly won't be locked up 'for my own good'!" She bared her teeth. "That is out of the question!"

"Do you really want to risk your life just so you can continue with your work?" Ron asked.

Granger pressed her lips together and glared at him, and he couldn't help thinking that her reply, if voiced, would have been 'yes'.

The woman was mental.

* * *

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 5th, 2005**

Bones looked like she always did when working - deux-pièce, pressed sharp enough to serve as a weapon, not a hair out of place and her weird monocle seemingly glued to her face. So much for the rumour that she had been asleep when Scrimgeour called her.

"So, Dr Granger recognised you at first sight." Bones steepled her fingers and leaned forward a little, looking Harry and Ron over. "And you didn't then see any reason to inform headquarters at once."

Ron didn't flinch. But he couldn't help growing tense in the face of Bones's icy glare.

Harry, though, shook his head. "We didn't want to jump to conclusions. As it turned out, she had found an article about Pettigrew's arrest when she was investigating schools to finish her education."

Bones's expression didn't change. "And do you think she was telling you the truth?"

"We found no evidence to the contrary," Harry replied. Ron didn't look at him, but he hoped his friend wasn't smiling. That never worked on their boss.

"That's a textbook evasive answer, Potter," Bones said. "You're not on trial," she went on, "so don't try and of your sophistry. Tell me what you think of her explanation."

"It wasn't too convincing," Harry admitted, "but not enough to bring her in."

"Not by a long chalk," Ron added.

"Arresting Granger would be ill-advised," Scrimgeour cut in.

Bones glared at him. "I'm not in the habit of allowing politics or the press to dictate how we enforce the law."

Scrimgeour nodded in response. Of course, everyone knew that politics mattered. And that the press mattered in politics. Which was why good money was on Scrimgeour succeeding Bones sooner rather than later.

Bones scoffed. "I should take you off the case." Which meant she wouldn't. Ron refrained from smiling. Granger - the case - intrigued him. "But you've established some sort of rapport with Dr Granger," their boss went on, "which is more than anyone else investigating her case has ever managed."

And didn't that paint a lovely picture of the woman? Mental, indeed. Or, Ron added to himself, she had something to hide. Probably both.

"Yes, ma'am." Harry nodded, and Ron felt like sighing as Bones glared at them again. His friend should know better than that.

"So, you keep protecting her and investigate her as much as you can without compromising your primary assignment. Now, put her up in the guest quarters for the night and get some sleep!"

Ron struggled not to wince. That wouldn't put Granger in a better mood. And once she realised that they were repurposed holding cells...

Meanwhile, Bones turned to Scrimgeour. "Rufus, you're in charge of the case."

"Yes, Amelia." Ron saw the man's eyes widen just a smidgen as he nodded - he had probably expected Bones to take over. But was that a sign of trust and favour, or was she using him as a possible scapegoat in case this blew up in CI5's face?

Probably both, Ron thought. Bones might scoff at politics, but you didn't rise to her position without knowing how to navigate them.

* * *

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 6th, 2005**

"Ron! I heard everything! Harry got into another shoot-out!"

Ron barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Four hours of sleep weren't enough to face Colin Creevey first thing in the morning on entering CI5 headquarters.

"So, what happened? Did he try to kidnap Dr Granger? Do you think he was working for the original kidnapper? Perhaps there's a ring of paedophiles behind it, and they want to silence the only victim that got away before she recovers her memory!"

"That sounds like something straight out of the Daily Mail," Ron replied with a frown. "And watch the speculation - at least while Granger's here."

"Oh!" Colin blinked. "She's still asleep in the guest quarters, don't worry."

Ron frowned. "You didn't violate her privacy by spying on her through the security cameras, did you?"

"Ah… I only checked if she was awake?"

Ron sighed. "And why did you do that in the first place?" Colin was a lab technician and computer wizard, not a guard or psychologist.

"Are you kidding? She's the most famous kidnapping victim in Britain! And someone just attempted to kidnap her again! What if the trauma caused her lost memories to resurface?" Colin shook his head wildly. "We could finally solve her case!"

Ron narrowed his eyes at the other man. "Delete all the recordings you took from her quarters."

"How did you… I mean… why?" Colin blinked at him.

"Because you didn't get a warrant." Ron sighed. If Granger ever found out… "So, did you identify our kidnapper?"

"Huh? Oh, yes, we did." Colin nodded. "Harry didn't damage the face too much and we ran his fingerprints through our database and got a hit: Vincent Crabbe. Former member of the Welsh Guards. Dishonourable discharge in 2003, after he and a friend were caught working as guards for local smugglers in Bosnia during SFOR."

"Looks like he decided to make a career of it afterwards," Ron commented. "What's the name of his friend?"

"Gregory Goyle."

Ron made a note. They would have to look up the guy, in case he was involved.

"So… where's Harry?" Colin looked around. "You usually arrive together."

"Wimbledon's over, so Ginny's got some time off," Ron told him.

"Oh, I see." Colin slowly nodded. "Of course…"

"Yeah," Ron said. He didn't want to see Colin mope on a good day, and this wasn't a good day. "Have you finished your report already?"

"I'm waiting for the autopsy," Colin said, perking up.

"Send me what you have." Ron doubted that the autopsy would add anything to the case - they already knew how the man had died, after all.

"Alright, I'll… Oh!" Colin pulled out a vibrating cell phone. "Dr Granger's screaming."

* * *

_They were coming for her. From her cell, she could hear footsteps on the stone stairs. She tried to steel herself. She could take it. They wouldn't break her. They wouldn't. She could take it. She wouldn't break. Not now. She would be saved. Someone would be coming for her._

_Then she heard the giggling and trembled. Her. The madwoman. No. No. No. She was panting. Before she realised what she was doing, she found her back pressed against the cold stone wall, as far from the door as she could manage._

_The sound of heels hitting the stone floor grew louder. And the way they… was the woman skipping? _

_She swallowed, shaking now despite her efforts to control herself. She could take this. She had to. She couldn't break. She wouldn't break. She wouldn't break. She would go insane before they broke her._

_Why was it taking so long? She knew how long it took them to reach the door of her cell from the stairs. Was the woman dragging it out deliberately? Increasing the psychological torment? That would fit, of course._

_She felt something run down her cheeks. Was she crying? She shook her head, biting her lower lip and wiped the tears off her face. She had to be brave. She wouldn't break. Not now. Not ever._

_But then the door to her cell was pulled open, and she whimpered at the sight of the cackling madwoman smiling down at her._

"_Hello, my little mudblood!"_


	2. Chapter 2: The Parents

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Parents**

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 6th, 2005**

By the time Ron reached the 'guest quarters', Granger wasn't screaming any more. She was sitting on the bed, clad in what looked like an oversized shirt, her hair a mess that would have sent Parvati or Lavender running for the hills, and she was glaring at Dawlish, who must have been the officer on duty.

"I am perfectly fine," she spat. "I merely had a nightmare - quite a common occurrence after a traumatic experience, such as an assault on my person. Something, I think, with which you would be familiar if you had ever worked in the field."

Ron saw Dawlish tense at that, and he had to suppress a chuckle. Dawlish was a veteran officer - but he had been working at a desk job since before Harry and Ron had started their careers. And you just had to rib the desk jockeys. But for Granger to guess that...

"Yes, you had a nightmare, Miss," Dawlish started to reply.

"Dr Granger," she hissed.

"Dr Granger," the man pressed out through clenched teeth. "As you said yourself, you've had a traumatic experience. And in light of your past, that raises concerns about your mental health."

"My reaction is perfectly normal." She scoffed. "If you were planning to use this as a pretext to lock me up, I'll have you know that my parents have been informed about the attack and will ensure my release."

"Such decisions will be made by the proper authorities, but I would remind you that this is a criminal case," Dawlish retorted.

"Your loyalty to your superiors is commendable. Few men in your position are willing to fall upon their swords like that."

"What?"

Granger's sneer left no doubt of her opinion of Dawlish. "Once the press gets wind of how you're trying to imprison me without cause because you are too lazy or too inept to do your job and find whoever attacked me, who do you think will be the chosen scapegoat?" She turned to Ron. "Oh. Good morning, Officer Weasley. Here to check on your prisoner?"

Ron was certain that she had noticed him before that, but he nodded and ignored her barb. He had expected that, after last night. "Good morning, Dr Granger."

"Hello, Dr Granger!" Colin piped up behind Ron. "Did you remember anything from your kidnapping?"

"Colin!" Ron hissed, glaring at him, and even Dawlish winced.

"What?" Colin blinked, then paled.

"No, I do not remember anything about my kidnapping," Granger spat as she stood up. She looked absolutely furious. Worse than Mum when she had caught the twins making explosives in the shed. Nice legs, though, Ron couldn't help noticing. "Is this why you want to lock me up and keep me from my work? Are you planning to _torture_ me into remembering my ordeal?"

"What?" Colin repeated himself, cringing. "No, no! I was just… I mean…"

"Get out, Creevey!" Dawlish snapped. "Weasley, why did you bring him along? For that matter, what are you doing here?"

"I came to visit Dr Granger," Ron replied as Colin fled. "I'm working on her case, after all, and I'm responsible for her safety."

To his mild surprise, she didn't make a comment about how she could take care of herself. Perhaps the attack had made her see reason.

"Which means your presence is superfluous," she told Dawlish. "That means you should vacate the premises, in case you're wondering," she added.

Dawlish was so tense and angry, Ron could see his jaw muscles twitch as he reined in his temper, but the other man left without another word. Ron sighed and shook his head. "You have such a way with people."

She scoffed again. "Says the man who came with Mr… Creevey?"

"I didn't bring him; he followed me," Ron replied. It hadn't been his fault - Colin should have known better. They weren't in school any more.

"Really." Her doubt was obvious.

Ron shrugged. "Anyway, I came to tell you that we'd like to ask you a few questions later. After you've had breakfast, of course."

"Do I get to dress first? And in private? Or is that too dangerous?"

"You can even take a shower in the female locker rooms," he told her.

"Alone? Without cameras?"

"Of course." What kind of people did she think they were? Well, after Colin and Dawlish, she probably had a poor impression of the department.

And, Ron thought, remembering a few of his co-workers, she might not be entirely wrong.

* * *

"Have you seen this man before?" Harry asked, showing a picture of Crabbe to Granger.

Ron saw her tense up, and her eyes widened for a moment, before she schooled her features and shook her head. "No, I'm certain that I haven't seen that man before."

She was lying. Ron was sure. She knew Crabbe. Had he been involved in her kidnapping? But he would have been her age - an eleven-year-old, taking part in a kidnapping? Not impossible, of course. But for seven years? No.

And why would she be lying? Crabbe had been there to kidnap or kill her. Was she protecting whoever was behind this? But why?

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

"Yes, I am. As I just told you," she said.

She was a very smart woman. And she didn't scare easily. So… why wasn't she cooperating? Why was she lying?

"Who was it?" She tilted her head. "Or is that classified?"

Ron was tempted to tell her 'yes', but Harry was quicker. "Vincent Crabbe. Career criminal."

"Ah."

Still no surprise. She had to know that Crabbe had just been a minion and that someone else was pulling the strings - someone far more dangerous than Crabbe had been. And yet she seemed unconcerned.

Ron shook his head. The woman's behaviour made no sense. There were too many mysteries surrounding her.

But he would get to the bottom of them.

"Has anyone approached you about your work?" Ron asked. "Anyone you wouldn't have expected to be interested in quantum physics, I mean."

Granger's frowning expression as she thought about that was almost cute. After about half a minute, she shook her head. "No, no one comes to mind. I've only spoken with fellow physicists and, of course, the faculty about my research." She met his eyes. "And I can safely say that my work wouldn't help anyone to build a quantum computer."

"Ah, but would others know that?" Ron asked.

"Wouldn't anyone willing to resort to kidnapping verify that it was worth the risk beforehand?" she retorted.

Was she trying to avoid answering the question? Perhaps.

"You'd be surprised just how careless some criminals are," Harry said.

"One wouldn't expect to find someone with the means to profit from the development of quantum computers among that number," she replied. "Not to mention that it would be foolish to underestimate whoever sent Mr Crabbe after me."

Harry leaned forward. "Why do you assume that someone sent him?"

Granger didn't quite scoff, but her expression came close. "You just told me that he was a career criminal. Since he was about as subtle as a charging bull, I don't think he decided on his own to attack me."

That made sense, but not enough. Granger sounded too sure of her assessment. Another clue that she had recognised Crabbe. Did she know who was behind him as well? But why wouldn't she tell them? "Aren't you underestimating Crabbe by assuming he was too stupid to have acted on his own?"

This time she did scoff. "He's dead. If he had acted on his own, then there'd be no further danger. It's only sensible to assume that he was merely a pawn."

"And you have no idea who could have hired him? None at all?" Harry didn't quite manage to hide his doubts.

She glared at Ron's friend. "No, I do not," she told him. "Do you have any other questions for me?"

Ron had a few questions, but this wasn't the time to ask them. They needed more information first. He glanced at Harry and shook his head.

"No," Harry said.

"Am I free to go now?"

"As long as we're with you," Ron told her with a smile. "For your protection."

He saw her press her lips together. She didn't like that. Not at all. But, as her reluctant nod showed, she knew that she needed them. "Good. I need to return to my work."

Ron almost shook his head. She had been attacked last night, and she wanted to go straight back to work? Mental.

* * *

**Greenwich, London, July 6th, 2005**

"I would have expected you to go straight to your lab," Ron said as they stopped in front of Granger's home.

She glared at him. "Without changing my clothes?"

Ron took refuge in a joke to avoid answering that question honestly. "Oh, I assumed that you had half your wardrobe stashed in your office. Together with a camping shower hidden in your locker, a sleeping bag in your desk and enough MREs to last you a year."

She blinked, once, before glaring at him and all but jumping out of the car before he could tell her to wait.

"I would be surprised if she didn't have a change of clothes at the lab," Harry whispered as they hastily got out of the car - they had to check for threats, after all.

Ron nodded. She was here for something else. Perhaps to check if something had been stolen from her apartment? There hadn't been any trace of anyone having broken into it, but a skilled thief wouldn't leave any signs of their presence.

This might be more interesting than Ron had expected. He wondered what kind of thing Granger feared might have been stolen. And what her apartment looked like.

* * *

It looked messier than he had expected, he realised after stepping into her living room. Cheap shelves lined the walls, stuffed with books. Physics, he noticed, cocking his head to read their spines, but also esoteric books - new age and witchcraft. That didn't seem to fit Granger at all.

Stacks of paper covered several dressers and a table - though she had left one spot on the table free, probably so she could eat dinner there. The few pictures on the walls - in places where there was not enough space for another shelf - showed her parents and her graduations.

The apartment actually looked like her office. Perhaps he should have expected that. The kitchen was old and cramped, though there was a microwave oven on the small table there, and an electric tea kettle.

All in all, the flat didn't look like it belonged to a person who had a life outside her work.

"I don't see anyone outside," Harry told him from near one of the windows.

Ron nodded at him and went to the bedroom, where Granger was, from the sounds he could hear, rummaging around in her armoire. Glancing through the gap left by the open door, he could see an unmade bed, small and cheap-looking, and Granger's backside - she was kneeling in front of a trunk.

Frowning, he stepped inside. All the rest of the furniture looked cheap and new. Soulless IKEA crap. The trunk, though, looked old and expensive - the kind of trunk Malfoy had owned. Traditional, but not very practical. The idiot had struggled with his trunk every time he'd had to move it himself and couldn't order the servants to do it.

Ron couldn't really imagine Granger carrying that thing around.

"Do you always sneak into a woman's bedroom without her leave?" Granger wasn't even looking over her shoulder at him as she spoke, he noticed.

Snorting, he sat down on her bed, pushing aside some of the magazines and notebooks spread out on the sheets. "If I'm guarding her? Yes, actually," he told her with a grin.

She scoffed without turning to look at him. "Do you expect to find an assassin hiding under my bed?"

"No. I expect the space underneath your bed to be filled with books and stacks of paper," he said.

That made her laugh, to his surprise, but it didn't last. "I suppose I could, now," she murmured, and he wasn't certain that he had been meant to hear her.

He frowned. What had he done now? He sniffed the air. The expected smell of old books, fresh clothes from the armoire but also… a cat. And he hadn't seen a feeding bowl in the kitchen. But there had been a spotted cat in the picture of her with her parents. She must have lost her cat recently. And wasn't planning to get another.

He leaned over to straighten a stack of magazines about to collapse and blinked. He knew that issue. Mum had bought several of them after Pettigrew's arrest. She had been so proud of him. And of Harry, of course. Angry, too, at the risks they had taken. But mostly proud. But that had been over ten years ago - Granger had still been a captive when it had come out. Why would she have that issue?

She had mentioned having read the article, but how had she gotten the magazine? And why?

Granger stood and turned around. "I've got my clothes sorted out now…" She trailed off as she noticed what he was holding.

He looked at her, then placed the magazine down on top of the stack. She didn't flinch or look away. "Ah, that has the article I mentioned."

"Yes."

He waited, but she merely nodded. "I'm going to change now."

He watched her enter the bathroom carrying a stack of clothes and her ratty bag and waited until the door closed behind her before he picked up the magazine again, quickly flipping to the familiar pages.

He wasn't a forensic scientist, but the magazine looked like it had been opened very often on the pages showing him, Harry and Sirius posing together.

What the hell did that mean? Was she a stalker? Or a fan? She hadn't acted like either, though - he was quite familiar with the type thanks to Colin going to the same school as Harry and Ron.

He glanced at the armoire. No. She would have cleaned up anything suspicious in there. But… the trunk. It didn't fit the rest of the flat. And that was a very good lock on it, he realised after a closer look. Better than the one on Malfoy's trunk, in fact, and even at his best, it had taken Ron at least five minutes to pick that one.

Perhaps another time.

* * *

**South Kensington campus, Imperial College London, London, July 6th, 2005**

Once more, Ron was watching Granger go through notebooks and notepads like an alcoholic went through a case of beer. The woman had dived straight back into her work as soon as they had arrived at her lab, and it didn't look like she'd be stopping any time soon. As if she hadn't been in a firefight not even twelve hours ago...

Mental.

He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, one hand close to his shoulder holster. Ron had a feeling that Crabbe wouldn't remain the last criminal they'd have to deal with, and it didn't pay to slack off.

"Someone's coming," he heard Harry on the radio. "Looks like a faculty member."

"Are you expecting visitors?" Ron asked Granger.

"What?" She looked up from her work with a by now familiar scowl.

"Someone's coming," Ron explained. "Might be faculty."

She blinked, then pressed her lips together as if she had bitten into something rotten. "Blake."

"Blake?"

"The Principal," she said as if that explained everything.

"He claims he's the Principal of this faculty," Harry reported as if on cue.

Granger was already up and moving towards the door, and Ron had to hurry a little to cut her off. It could be a trap, after all.

Harry gave the all-clear, but Ron still put himself in front of Granger before he opened the door.

"Hermione! I heard you were here, but I couldn't believe it!" the man blurted out.

"Good morning, Miles," Granger replied in a much more composed manner, nodding curtly at him. "Why wouldn't I be in my lab?"

"But… but you were attacked last night! There are police here!"

She scoffed. "The assailant was killed by the police. And as you can see, I'm well-protected."

"It's not another attack we're worried about," Blake said, shaking his head. "This must have been such a shock to you…"

"I'm fine," she spat.

"But surely, some time off would do you good."

"It wouldn't do my work any good, and that would actually stress me much more than an attack that has already been handled."

"But…"

"I'm fine. All I need is to continue my work," Granger cut him off. "And even if I were traumatised, the familiar environment and routine is what would help me the most."

Blake sighed, then looked at Ron and Harry, shaking his head. But he didn't address them before he left.

Granger sighed. "I'm surrounded by people who think they know better than I what's best for me."

"And they are all wrong," Ron said in his best sarcastic tone.

She looked like she would bare her teeth at him at any moment as she glared at him. "Yes, they are," she spat. "I'm fine."

Neither of them said anything else until lunch, when it was Ron's turn to get some grub for Harry and himself.

* * *

Carrying two portions of fish and chips - Harry had insisted - Ron was approaching the entrance to Granger's lab when he spotted a middle-aged couple walking towards the same destination. The woman's hair… Yes. As soon as he passed them, he recognised Granger's parents from the pictures in her flat.

"Mr and Mrs Granger, I presume," he said.

They looked startled - and even more so when they saw him. "I'm afraid you have us at a disadvantage," Mrs Granger replied.

"Ron Weasley, CI5."

"Ah. The bodyguard." Mr Granger nodded.

Ron couldn't put his finger on it, but Mr Granger's response sounded somewhat off. He nodded in confirmation anyway. "One of them."

They didn't seem surprised about that - but they remained tense. It was understandable, of course, after their only daughter had just been attacked. Yet… Ron would have expected them to be upset.

He used his radio to inform Harry. If her parents ended up staring down the barrel of a gun, Granger would probably be even more insufferable. "Bringing two guests. The Grangers."

Harry, of course, was ready to step in anyway as Ron opened the door. Just in case.

"Hermione!"

"Dear!"

"Mum, Dad." Granger seemed to freeze up for a moment before she hugged her parents. "You didn't have to come."

"After hearing someone tried to attack you? Of course we had to!" Mr Granger, at least, was sensible.

"I'm fine," Granger replied as she released her parents and took a step back to lean against her desk. "They shot the man before he could do anything."

Her parents exchanged a glance. "Dear," her mother started, "was he…"

"He had a gun," Granger told them.

Against all reason, her statement seemed to make her parents relax. Which made no sense at all. Normal people didn't react like that when they heard about someone attacking their daughter with a firearm.

This was another clue to whatever Granger was hiding.

"Dr Granger," Harry spoke up, looking at Granger, "if someone is after you for your research, they might attempt to use your parents as leverage."

As Ron had expected, that set Granger off. "You would dare to use my parents…"

"Dear, we've already been contacted by the police about this," Mrs Granger interrupted her. "They advised us to accept police protection."

"Who called you?" Ron asked, frowning. They hadn't been informed about that. Cock-ups happened, of course, and some of their co-workers really didn't like Harry and him for being the best team in the CI5, but there was, of course, another, more sinister, possibility.

"A Mr Scrimgeour," Mrs Granger replied. "Your boss, I believe."

Was Scrimgeour playing games?

"We'll check with him," Harry said.

"Do you expect someone to be impersonating your superior?" Granger asked.

Harry shrugged. "I don't think so, but since we don't know who is after you, nor what resources they have at their disposal, we have to maintain constant vigilance," he quoted Moody.

She opened her mouth but closed it again without saying anything.

"Dear, you will be able to focus on your work much better if you don't have to worry about us," Mr Granger added.

And Granger flinched as if she had been struck. "It's not like that," she told them, but it sounded weak.

"Hermione, we know how important your work is," Mrs Granger said.

"But don't let them lock you up! You have your practice, and your patients depend on you!" Granger was shaking her head so much, her thick hair obscured her face.

"We could organise substitutes," Mr Granger replied.

"You don't have to! Don't let them ruin your practice just to make it a little easier for themselves!"

"Taking people into protective custody isn't actually much easier for us than assigning them a protective detail," Harry said.

He wasn't telling the entire truth, of course - with two people like the Grangers, taking them into protective custody would be easier than protecting them while they stayed at their own home and kept working. That took more officers to cover them. And Scrimgeour would like to have the Grangers safely locked away. Less potential trouble with the press that way.

Granger snorted. "You were quite quick to take me in."

"Temporarily, while we sorted things out," Ron said.

She huffed.

"Mr Scrimgeour mentioned that there were options to discuss," Mrs Granger explained.

"Take the option that's most convenient for you!"

Ron looked at Harry and mimed making a call. His friend nodded and stepped out. Granger was looking at them, so Ron told her: "He's checking with Scrimgeour."

"Ah." Granger didn't look very mollified. What was with the chip on her shoulder? She'd called them 'professional paranoids', but she acted as if everyone was out to get her - while ignoring the actual danger, Ron realised.

"Do you have any suspects yet?" Mr Granger asked into the sudden silence.

"We're still at the start of our investigation," Ron replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

The Grangers looked from him to their daughter, who was, Ron noticed, almost mirroring him. He quickly changed his posture while Mrs Granger seemed to be amused for some reason.

Granger, of course, wasn't amused in the slightest, but she didn't glare at her mother - she glared at him before clearing her throat and addressing her parents: "Well, have you had lunch already?"

"We planned to take you out for lunch," Mrs Granger replied.

"Or at least order delivery from a decent restaurant," Mr Granger added. "Instead of instant meals."

"Or military surplus rations," Ron cut in.

"What?" Both Grangers stared at him, then turned to stare at their daughter. "You were actually eating those?" Mrs Granger looked aghast.

"Of course!" Granger said, raising her chin. "It wouldn't do to find out that they were unpalatable just as I needed them in an emergency, would it?"

"Like getting stranded on a deserted island?" Ron asked before he could help himself. "Or getting lost in the Highlands for days without your phone, radio or any other means of communication?"

All three looked at him with a frown for a moment before Granger huffed. "That's actually far less unlikely than you make it sound," she claimed.

"I don't think you're the type to get lost in the Highlands, much less to go on a hike without proper equipment," Ron retorted. She was the type to prepare for everything. The paranoid type. Mental.

"Exactly. Which includes MREs." She nodded at her own words.

"But we're not in the Highlands, dear," her mother said. "So let's eat something a little more refined, shall we?"

"Pizza or curry?" Mr Granger asked, pulling out his phone.

Granger was glaring at Ron as if it was his fault that she would have to eat a decent meal.

* * *

Half an hour later, Ron watched as the Grangers finished their meal. Granger had opted for curry because it would be delivered more quickly. At least that was what she'd claimed. Based on his own experiences, Ron had his doubts. But the takeaway had been delivered promptly and smelled good enough that Ron wouldn't have minded a taste even though he'd finished his own lunch already.

Not that he'd asked, of course. Even though watching her reaction would have been funny.

"Well, we should go," Mr Granger said, putting down his fork. "You're itching to resume your work as soon as we're out of your hair, aren't you?"

"No, no," Granger lied, but her expression betrayed her.

Mrs Granger shared a look and a rather wry smile with her husband before shaking her head. "We understand, dear. We do."

"Thank you." Granger looked like she wanted to say something more, but then she pressed her lips together.

"Are you going to meet Scrimgeour now?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Mr Granger confirmed. "We have an appointment at two o'clock."

"It might be best if one of us goes with you," Harry said. "If anyone is observing us, they'll have noticed you."

"Ah." Mr Granger nodded. "If you think we're in danger…"

"I'll go with you," Ron cut in. He could also check for news with headquarters that way. And it beat going stir-crazy in Granger's lab.

So five minutes later, he was seated in the Granger's BMW, stuck in London's traffic. He'd never get caught in that situation if he had to guard someone against an assassination, but a kidnapping? Any attempt to kidnap them would run into the same traffic jam. And with all the witnesses around, few would dare to try anything anyway.

"Please excuse Hermione's manners," Mr Granger said as they waited at a particularly slow crossing. "She has some issues with… authority."

Calling her mental to her parents' faces wouldn't go over well so Ron nodded. "Understandable."

"She's not unstable," Mrs Granger added. "She just doesn't trust easily and tries to drive people away before she can grow close to them."

"Ah." That made some sense. Her parents would know her best. They might even know what exactly had happened to her during her kidnapping. But, as curious as Ron was, he wouldn't ask them. "Well, seeing her eat that MRE did nearly drive us from the premises," he joked.

Mr and Mrs Granger chuckled, though there was a rueful tone as Mrs Granger replied: "That was probably her intention. At least I hope so."

"I can see that," Ron agreed. At least now he could.

"She doesn't like it, but she needs protection," Mrs Granger went on. "We can't lose her. Not after..." She trailed off and Ron, sitting behind Mr Granger, saw that she was clenching her hands so tightly, her knuckles were turning white.

Of course. They had thought their daughter lost - dead - for seven years before she had reappeared. Tortured, malnourished, but alive. "We'll protect her," he said.

"Thank you." Mrs Granger took a deep breath and wiped her eyes.

After about a minute of silence, Mr Granger suddenly asked: "Whoever is guarding us won't be hunting the kidnappers, will they?"

Ron understood at once what the man was thinking. "It's not that simple, but…" He clenched his teeth. "We have other cases and assignments as well."

"But the fewer people needed to guard us, the more are free to investigate Hermione's case."

Ron shrugged. "That's true. More or less." Politics played a role, but the Granger case was high-profile. Scrimgeour would want it solved under his command.

"Thank you."

* * *

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 6th, 2005**

The telly was running in the break room when Ron passed, showing a familiar sight: Granger's home. It had been running since morning, of course - the attack had happened too late for the newspapers, but that hadn't stopped the TV news. The BBC was covering it thoroughly, though at least they hadn't done a special news broadcast.

"_...Dr Granger almost fell victim to another kidnapping attempt yesterday night," _a very serious announcer said. "_Only the timely intervention of two police officers saved her. Since the criminal who kidnapped her in 1991 was never caught, speculation as to whether or not they might be behind this attempt as well is running rampant. The police have declined to comment on the case, but retired Chief Superintendent Cornelius Fudge, who worked on the case in the past, was willing to share his insights with us and…"_

"Turn the telly off before I shoot it!" someone growled.

The clerk watching it jumped to obey as Ron turned. "Moody!"

"Weasley." The old officer nodded at him. "Heard you nailed another crook."

"Harry shot him," Ron corrected his old instructor. "Are you working on the case as well?"

"Aye," Moody replied. "Rufus called everyone in. Well, everyone he trusts not to steal his thunder." He nodded at the now dark screen. "Fudge. Bloody pillock. That he had to retire after his affair with his secretary was leaked to the press was the best thing to happen to the Met."

That had been before Harry and Ron had joined the force, but Ron had heard about that particular scandal from Dad and Percy and everything about Fudge's incompetence from Moody, so he nodded in agreement.

"Bones got you two guarding the girl, right?"

"We're supposed to investigate as well, as long as we can do it without 'compromising our primary assignment'," Ron quoted Bones.

Moody chuckled. "You've been making too many waves. Too many arrests compared to the rest."

"I'd have expected Scrimgeour to want the case solved no matter what, as long as it happened on his watch," Ron said.

"He'd like that. But he owes a few of the older crowd some favours, and if he doesn't let them get their shot, they'll stab him in the back when he needs them the most."

"Ah." Bloody politics.

"You'll get used to it in CI5. I told you that already, didn't I?"

"You did."

"Even Cowley had to deal with it, and the man was in a class of his own. Bones never managed to match his success. Rufus… well, he's just crooked enough to have a chance."

That wasn't exactly what Ron wanted to hear about his superior.

Moody, though, laughed. "Oh, you should have met Bodie and Doyle."

Ron made a non-committal sound. Everyone had heard of those two. If even half the stories the older officers told about them were true, they'd put Moody to shame. Of course, if just a quarter of the stories about them were true, Bones would have arrested them herself. Or shot them. He shrugged. "Well, I have to get back to Harry. Can't leave him alone with Granger for too long."

"Oh? Would your sister get jealous?"

Ron chuckled. Ginny was better than that. "No, but Granger's got a sharper tongue than Bones, and a worse temper."

Moody laughed out loud at that, and Ron waved as he left the break room.

* * *

**South Kensington campus, Imperial College London, London, July 6th, 2005**

Harry didn't look annoyed, Ron noticed when he returned to Granger's lab. She probably had behaved herself after her parents' visit. He chuckled at the stray thought.

"What did headquarters say?" Harry asked.

"Nothing new. They haven't been able to find Goyle so far," Ron told him. After a moment, he added: "The Grangers opted for protective custody after their meeting with Scrimgeour."

Harry opened his mouth, surprised, but Granger's loud "What?" cut him off before he could say anything.

The woman was out of her chair and stalking towards Ron. "Protective custody? I told them not to do that! What did you do?" she snarled into his face.

Blame Scrimgeour? Deflect? This wasn't his fault. Her parents had made their choice before they had even entered headquarters. Well, _his_ parents hadn't raised a coward. "They asked me which option would result in more officers working on your case."

He looked at her, meeting her eyes, as she glared at him with clenched teeth - he saw her jaw muscles twitch - as she worked through the ramifications of what he had said. And he felt a little bit guilty when she looked away, tears in her eyes, and muttered: "Bloody hell, of course they'd do that! I should have expected it."

"They love you. Of course they'd want to do what's best for their daughter," Ron said.

Once more, she flinched as if she had been struck.

* * *

_She wasn't insane. She was safe. She wasn't insane. She was safe. Lost, but safe. If she told herself that often enough, she might even believe it. It could be a ruse, of course. In theory. Magic could do so much to someone's mind. With the right spell, you could make someone believe anything - erase their memories and replace them with false ones._

_She should know; she had done it herself to others._

_But doing so made no sense. If this was just a delusion planted in her mind, what was its purpose? No one was asking her to spill her friends' secrets. Or posing as her friend. And if this was merely the result of a spell, then where would their enemies have found someone with such detailed knowledge of muggle procedures and hospitals? The room looked exactly like a room in a modern muggle hospital should look. The nurses and doctors behaved like they should. The police officers as well. Perhaps they had taken the imagery from her mind?_

_But then, who would have come up with the idea that she had been kidnapped seven years ago, disappeared without a trace, until she had been found stumbling around in a London without Diagon Alley? What would have been the point?_

_To make her lose her sanity? There were other, quicker and more painful ways for that, which their enemies preferred._

_She shivered at the memory of the pain and torture, of the mad cackling that punctuated the agony, hugging herself._

_No, this was real. It had to be real. She was safe. Lost, but safe. She wasn't insane. Nor was she traumatised, as the people treating her assumed. Or perhaps she was - she had certainly gone through enough, even though she hadn't been kidnapped and kept captive for seven years, as the police assumed._

_She closed her eyes, brushing the few tears on her cheeks away, as she leaned back in the bed. She was safe. She wasn't insane._

_And she was utterly lost._

_There were voices outside her door. She reached for a holster she didn't have any more, then balled her hand into a fist and listened. That was one of the police officers standing guard, and… not the nurses or doctors. Someone else._

_She gasped as the door opened and she stared at her parents. No, not her parents. The other's parents._

"_Hermione!"_

_The woman sounded like her mother. So much, she replied almost against her will: "Mum?"_

_They were hugging her. She was hugging them. And crying. Everyone was crying. They looked and felt like her parents._

"_They told us they found someone who…" The woman trailed off, sobbing._

"_They ran a DNA test before informing us! They 'didn't want to get our hopes up'!" the man spat. "They wanted to keep us from seeing you!" He was also crying._

_She sniffled as the door was closed from the outside. They weren't her parents, no matter how much she wished they were. And they thought she was their Hermione._

_She could play along. Their Hermione was probably dead. They wouldn't know. They wouldn't lose her a second time._

_No. She wasn't their Hermione. She wouldn't stay. She'd return. Return home. _

_She couldn't do that to them. She had to do this now._

_She took a deep breath and lowered her voice._

"_I'm not your daughter."_


	3. Chapter 3: The Killing

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Killing**

**Greenwich, London, July 6th, 2005**

Standing in her kitchen as he searched for some grub, Ron wondered if Granger had ever used her stove for actual cooking. Not aloud, of course - Granger might have buried herself in her work for the afternoon after the revelation about her parents, but he had no doubt that now, without the handy distraction of her research, it wouldn't take much to set her off again.

"Your parents are already in protective custody."

Like Harry's announcement in the living room.

Granger didn't blow her top, though. Well, if she really couldn't control her temper, she wouldn't have survived the academic infighting. The stories Percy had told…

"Just keep them safe if you must lock them up."

"We'll do our best," Harry told her.

"You better," she snapped.

Now that was more like it! Ron grinned as he entered the living room. "Or else?"

"What?" She frowned at him.

"It felt like you'd have to add a threat," he explained. "You know, like 'or I'll feed you into my quantum reactor'."

"It's a quantum mirror cage," she corrected him.

"That doesn't sound as dangerous as a reactor," he replied, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I'll have to fail you on your threat test."

She snorted then blinked, and he could see her close up. "Leaving such silliness aside, there's the matter of dinner."

"As long as it's not heated MREs, I'm fine with anything," Harry said, sitting down on one of the few chairs that wasn't occupied by a stack of paper.

Granger pursed her lips at the implicit assumption that she would be cooking for them, and Ron had to hide his grin - his friend could be quite aggravating when he wanted to be. Sometimes even when he didn't want to be, of course. "I guess we'll be getting takeaway again?" Ron said. She must live off takeaway and rations. And tea.

"As long as the police pick up the tab," Granger said. "I'm not supposed to feed you, am I?" she added rather archly.

"Well, you're supposed to be a good host to your guests, aren't you?" Ron tilted his head with a grin. "At least that's what Mum always told me."

"I see." And her face was expressionless again. The woman really was mental. "Chicken curry."

"I suppose that's shorthand for: 'Please go buy some takeaway and get me a chicken curry'?" Ron said with a grin.

She glared at him, which was at least a reaction he could understand.

"Ron…" Harry shook his head as Ron glanced at him.

"And that's shorthand for 'Ron, go and buy us dinner!'" Ron chuckled. "Curry for everyone?"

"Yes."

"I said so, didn't I?"

* * *

"That's not from the restaurant I told you to visit." Granger greeted him with a frown upon his return.

"No, it's from a different one." Ron grinned. "It would have been too dangerous to go to your favourite restaurant. Someone might have tampered with the food there." And he hadn't felt like letting her dictate what they should eat.

"That's exactly why the restaurant I named wasn't my favourite, but my third-favourite takeaway," she retorted with a scowl. "I took the possible danger into account."

She had done that? Ron couldn't really believe it. That was almost paranoid. No, scratch the 'almost' - Moody would consider it appropriate. He shrugged and put the food on the table. "Well, then I added another layer of security. Bon appetit!"

She scoffed but grabbed the container with her meal anyway. Point Weasley.

He grabbed his own and started eating. The curry was good. Not the best he had eaten - Mum made that, of course - nor the best he'd had in London, but good enough. Granger wasn't complaining, so she probably shared his view. But then, anyone who voluntarily ate MREs had no right to complain about food.

Ron was about to comment on that when he heard a car engine stop in front of the house. He was at the window a moment later, peering through the gap between the frame and the curtains. He knew the black Aston Martin down there. "Scrimgeour," he said.

"Scrimgeour? Your superior?" Granger spoke up, putting her own meal down. "He's coming?"

"He's just arrived," Ron said. He saw him get out of the car.

And he saw him drop to the ground, half his head gone, before Ron heard the shot.

"Sniper!" he yelled, tackling Granger to push her down and further away from the window. He felt her squirming under him, trying to push him off - she almost kneed him in the groin. "Stay put!" he snapped. "They shot Scrimgeour!"

A moment later, the lights in the room went off. Harry's work - it would make it harder for the sniper to aim at them. Unless they had thermographic scopes. Or night vision ones.

"I'm calling it in!" Harry snapped, cell phone in hand. "Did you see where the shot came from?"

"From the southern part of the street. Had to be across the street to get him there," Ron replied. There were only about five houses from which they could have caught Scrimgeour and also have been too far away to be spotted by Harry and Ron upon arrival.

"Get off!" Granger hissed.

He rolled off her.

"My bag!" The daft woman went in search of her bag! At least she was crawling on all fours and not exposing herself!

"Leave it!"

"It's my emergency bag! I need it."

"Let her," Harry cut in. "Can't spot the sniper. But they'll be waiting for us to get out."

"Stay put?" Ron asked.

"Best chance to get them," Harry said. "We should have requested assault rifles."

Moody wouldn't be pleased by that oversight, Ron knew. And he knew something else. Whoever was behind this wasn't an ordinary criminal. Ordinary criminals didn't assassinate police officers, much less a high-ranking one like Scrimgeour. Certainly not by sniping him.

Ron followed Granger on all fours into her bedroom, where she had switched off the lights as well. Good thinking under pressure. "Stay under the bed!" he told her. "Safest place in case they use grenades."

"Grenades?" She gasped.

"Always assume the worst," he quoted Moody.

He didn't catch her muttered response, but in the dim light of the streetlamps, reflected by the room's ceiling, he saw her crawl under the bed, clutching her stupid bag - the thing wasn't large enough to hold much more than one or two of her MREs.

He took up a position at the door to the bedroom. That would allow him to catch anyone charging through the door in a crossfire with Harry, who was in the kitchen. And if someone threw a grenade inside, he'd be able to dive for cover inside the bedroom.

But if the enemy came in through the windows…

"Reinforcements are on the way," Harry informed him. "ETA three minutes."

That would be more than long enough for a prepared force to storm the flat. On the other hand, if they were prepared, why hadn't they started the attack already? And why hadn't they shot at him or Harry earlier? They could have taken out Ron easily when he had gone to get food - he hadn't expected a sniper. "This wasn't an attack on us," he said. "They wanted to get Scrimgeour."

He took Harry's muttered curse as agreement.

The next few minutes passed very, very slowly, but no one attacked them before they finally heard sirens. "What a terrible neighbourhood," Harry commented. "Second night in a row there's been a shooting."

"Bound to drive the house prices down," Ron replied.

"I doubt that," Granger cut in. "This will be seen as a single incident, not a crime wave."

"It was a joke," Ron explained.

She huffed in response.

* * *

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 7th, 2005**

This time, even Bones looked a little rumpled. Losing your second in command was bound to do that, of course. "Potter, Weasley. Sit down."

Ron nodded and took a seat next to Harry. They had spent the last hour settling Granger in her old quarters and answering questions. He hoped that now they would get some answers.

"You saw Rufus's murder," Bones stated, staring at them. At Ron.

Ron nodded. "Sniper shot."

"The preliminary report from forensics agree with that - the shot was fired from over four hundred yards away." Bones shook her head. "They found the shooter's position."

Harry leaned forward. "Was there any clue as to how long the sniper had been set up?"

"Not for long, according to Alastor."

Ron nodded. If Moody said that, then it was true. "They killed Scrimgeour without attacking us. All it did was alert us. This wasn't aimed at Granger."

"But if they wanted to kill him specifically, they would have had to know that he was visiting us." He shook his head. "Not many would have known about that. Hell, we didn't even know he was coming until I saw his car arrive."

Bones's stare grew more intense. "Indeed. He wanted to surprise you."

Well, it had been a surprise.

"That means we have a leak in the department," Harry said.

"Yes." Bones looked like she had bit into a lemon. "This might not be related to your case at all - just an opportunistic attack on Rufus."

Ron nodded, though he wasn't completely convinced. Scrimgeour had made a number of enemies - anyone in his position would have - but to order an assassination? Who would go that far?

Bones shook her head. "Corban Yaxley will lead the investigation of Rufus's murder. You will keep protecting Dr Granger."

"Do we answer to him?" Harry asked.

Bones shook her head. "No, you'll answer directly to me."

That isn't standard procedure, Ron thought as he nodded. Interesting.

* * *

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 7th, 2005**

The next morning, Harry and Ron were about to enter their office - well, the one they shared with four other officers - when they were stopped.

"Potter. Weasley. A word."

Ron schooled his features before turning around. "Good morning, Yaxley." He tried not to emphasise the greeting too much, just enough to make a point.

"Yaxley," Harry said curtly, making the same point.

The man scoffed. "My office." He turned around before either Harry or Ron could reply, and Ron scowled at the man's back as they followed him. Yaxley was almost as old as Moody - a few more years from being put out to pasture, as their former instructor would call it - but he could boast of neither Moody's skill nor reputation. His age and connections were the only reasons he had risen so high in the department.

Which was why, once inside Yaxley's office, Ron leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, flanking Harry, instead of taking a seat.

Yaxley scoffed again. "I've read your reports. They're a little scant on detail."

"There weren't any details to report," Harry retorted. "Scrimgeour arrived, got out of the car and was shot right away."

"That was all I saw," Ron confirmed.

"I'm not talking about the murder itself, but your assignment. Scrimgeour was shot on the way to you - practically on Granger's doorstep. A blind man could see that the two cases are related. I need to know everything you know about her."

"I think the site of the ambush was a coincidence," Harry replied. "Someone wanted to kill Scrimgeour and found out he was on his way to us and managed to get a shooter in place in time to catch him."

The other man all but sneered at them. "Trying to solve my case? I'm not about to dismiss any possible clues. Certainly not at this point. Whoever killed Scrimgeour will pay. So, what do you know about Granger? Why is someone trying to kidnap or kill her?"

"We don't know - we just started our investigation two days ago," Harry pointed out. "We're good but not that good."

"Leave the conclusions to me. Just tell me, in your own words, what you saw since you met her."

"We arrived on site at…" Harry started to quote their report, but Ron stepped on his friend's foot.

"Dr Granger is doing research in quantum physics…"

* * *

"He's an arse," Harry said an hour later as they were walking towards the guest quarters to fetch Granger so Yaxley could pointlessly interrogate her as well.

"Of course he is," Ron agreed. "But finding Scrimgeour's murderer is more important than trying to needle the bloke."

"I doubt that he's competent enough to find the murderer - with or without our help." Harry grinned.

"But he's competent enough to blame his failure on our supposed lack of co-operation," Ron pointed out.

His friend scoffed but didn't contradict him.

"He'll get his just desserts, anyway," Ron went on. "Bones will need a scapegoat as well."

Harry chuckled at that. "That's true. But I'd like to be present when she reams him out."

Ron shrugged. "We have our own assignment."

"With which Yaxley's currently meddling. Want to bet that Granger will blame us for this?"

Ron shook his head. That was a mug's bet.

* * *

"Didn't you tell your colleagues that I wasn't even near the window and didn't see anything before you tried to squash me flat with your bulk?"

As Ron had expected, Granger was in a mood. Her usual mood. Well, Yaxley would have to deal with her. "Apparently, our detailed reports weren't enough. We had to retell everything, and now it's your turn."

"Great. I could be doing actual productive work, but I have to talk to the police so they can cross off a box on their investigation checklist." She shook her head, sending her messy ponytail this way and that.

"Wait… you want to go to work today?" Harry blurted out what Ron was thinking.

Granger looked at them as if this were the most stupid thing she had ever heard. "Of course. I'm already behind schedule."

"You have a schedule for research? Isn't that a little… optimistic?" Ron asked.

"I adjust it based upon past performance."

"You mean it's more like a guideline. A loose guideline." He didn't snicker, but it was a close call. And her frown told Ron that he was right on the mark.

"Alright, here we are," Harry said, knocking on Yaxley's door.

"Come in!"

Ron turned to Granger as the door opened. "Try not to hurt him too…" He trailed off.

Granger was staring at Yaxley, paler than usual. And trembling. "Yaxley," she whispered, too low for anyone but Ron to hear. But then she straightened and raised her chin. "Can we get this over with?" she asked, loudly, as she marched into his office. "I've got more important things to do today."

Harry closed the door after telling Yaxley to give them a call when he was finished, but Ron wasn't paying attention. Granger had recognised Yaxley. And she was terrified of him. Yet Yaxley hadn't said anything about having met her before.

Had she just recovered some of her memories? Had Yaxley been among her kidnappers? He would've been old enough at the time. But if she had recognised him, why hadn't she cried out and denounced him?

What the hell was going on? Every time he found a clue, it just made the case more confusing.

"She recognised Yaxley," Ron said in a low voice, looking at the closed door of the man's office.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "He hasn't said anything about having met her before."

"And she looked terrified when she saw him," Ron added.

"Crabbe's death didn't faze her."

"Exactly," Ron agreed, glancing at his friend.

"You think she recovered some of her memories from the kidnapping?"

"If she ever lost them in the first place," Ron replied.

"But… why is she still alive?" Harry shook his head. "Yaxley's no Moody, but he's not an idiot. If he had been involved in that kind of thing, he'd have silenced her at the first opportunity."

"He might not have been able to get to her at the start, and after it was revealed that she didn't know anything, it wasn't necessary any more," Ron pointed out.

Harry frowned, rubbing his chin. "But to brazen it out… trusting that she wouldn't recover her memories. Why didn't he bolt right after she was found, if he was involved? And why would he insist on talking to her now?"

"Perhaps he knew that she wouldn't talk," Ron said.

"How? Stockholm syndrome?" Harry shook his head again. "She doesn't seem to be the type."

Ron agreed with that - Granger was no Patty Hearst. "Perhaps they had drugs that wiped her memory."

"And let her go after seven years?"

Ron frowned at Harry's raised eyebrows. "Just speculating," he said. "But she knows and fears Yaxley - I'm sure of that." He glanced around, then leaned against the wall next to the door and pulled out one of his brothers' inventions.

Harry muttered a curse under his breath and moved to block him from view. "If anyone catches us…"

"They won't," Ron said, pressing the bug against Yaxley's door and handing Harry an earbud. "If anyone asks, we're listening to the latest pop song Ginny likes."

He ignored Harry's snort while he activated his own earbud.

"_I already told you: My work isn't related to the development of quantum computers at all!"_

"_Potter and Weasley disagree."_

"_I told them the same thing! And I'm the one with a doctorate in quantum physics! Now do you have any other questions that would better suit an episode of Dr Who or can I stop wasting my time here and return to my work?"_

"Yeah, she's utterly terrified," Harry muttered.

Ron glared at him. He knew what he had seen.

"_What foreign persons have you been in contact with to discuss your work?"_

"_You have copies of my electronic correspondence. Everyone is listed there."_

"_No private conversations?"_

"_No. quantum physics isn't a topic that tends to come up in private conversations. At least not the actual physics."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Yes, I am certain."_

"_What about your friends at work?"_

"_Of course I discussed my work with my colleagues at the faculty."_

"_Would they share the information with others?"_

"_How would I know? You might not be aware of this, but normal people don't tap their friends' phones or hack their e-mail accounts."_

Ron had to chuckle at that. Granger's sharp tongue was entertaining when it wasn't aimed at yourself. Sometimes even then, he admitted.

"_You're not very co-operative."_

"_I've answered all your questions to the best of my ability. It's not my fault if you don't seem to be able to ask questions whose answers would actually benefit your investigation. If I were to be any more co-operative, I'd need to solve your case for you!"_

"_You also seem remarkably unaffected by two killings on your doorstep."_

"_I had good therapists who taught me not to feel guilty about anything that wasn't my fault."_

"_And yet you never recovered your missing memories."_

"_Considering what kind of memories I'm likely missing, I think I'm fortunate in that regard."_

"_It also means your kidnappers won't get caught."_

"_My therapists also taught me that I am not to blame for the lack of success of the police."_

Ron thought he could hear Yaxley grinding his teeth in frustration.

"_Is that all? I don't have all day."_

"_For now. I might have more questions at a later date."_

Ron hastily removed his brother's special bug and took a step back. A moment later, Granger stepped out, glaring at him and Harry. "That was pointless."

Ron grimaced at Yaxley behind Granger's back, getting a sympathetic nod in return. Let the man think they were bonding over having to deal with the testy scientist.

But as he followed Granger and Harry through the hallway, he noticed that her shoulders sagged a little and she took a deep breath - as if she were relieved.

A few moments later, though, she looked as usual - driven, frustrated and angry at everyone. "Can I go to work now, or do you have more questions to which you already know the answers?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Actually, you should really reconsider entering protective custody."

Was that a flicker of fear running across her face? Ron couldn't tell for certain before annoyance replaced it. "Why? You were fine with guarding me in my lab!" she said.

"That was before our superior was shot with a sniper rifle in front of your home," Harry replied. They hadn't actually identified the rifle yet, but a sniper rifle was basically a better hunting rifle anyway, so Ron's friend wasn't exactly lying.

Not that Granger seemed impressed by the term used, anyway. "That shouldn't pose a problem with a decently armoured car, and I doubt a rifle would be of much use inside the faculty building. My lab doesn't have windows, either, and we can use the staff parking area - it's underground."

That made some sort of sense - if you were the sort of mental woman who was fixated on her work to the exclusion of common sense and any hint of a self-preservation instinct. They should shut Granger down. On the other hand, if Yaxley was involved in this whole mess... "I'll get an armoured car, then," Ron said, ignoring the annoyed glance from Harry and the triumphant, if possibly surprised, smile from Granger.

"You want an armoured car? After Scrimgeour's murder, everyone wants an armoured car, Weasley!" Williamson glared at Ron. "And that means the cars we have go to those with seniority - not junior officers, no matter how hot they think they are!"

Ron grinned. "Oh, but we're on protection detail. That takes priority, doesn't it?" He slapped down the copy of his orders that he had taken with him. "We need an armoured car for our assignment."

The other officer blinked as he skimmed the documents. "What? Isn't that the bird in front of whose house Scrimgeour was shot?"

"Exactly."

"And why haven't you stuffed her into a safe house and told her not to show her face outside for the next few months, huh?"

Ron sighed - a little theatrically. "You wouldn't be asking that question if you had ever met her. She's a nightmare, honestly. And we can't exactly lock her up - she already threatened to raise a stink with the press."

"Really?"

He shrugged. "Not my call. So… I guess you'll have to disappoint some senior officer, hm?" Ron grinned.

Williamson shrugged. "They can complain to Bones. Regulations are regulations."

"Exactly!" Ron agreed, for once.

"Don't break this one, though, or there'll be hell to pay!" The other officer glared at him. "That means: Don't let Potter drive! His crazy stunts put our entire budget in the red two years running!"

"Of course," Ron lied. As if he'd let a desk jockey tell him and Harry how to solve a case. If they had to wreck a car to catch a crook, they'd do it.

If they caught Granger's kidnapper or Scrimgeour's murderer, not even Bones would criticise them, anyway.

* * *

"So that's why you agreed with Granger," Harry commented - in a low voice; Granger was searching for something in her ratty beaded bag a few yards away - as Ron got out of the Audi A6 in CI5's garage.

"That, and I didn't think much of our chances to get her to agree anyway," he said. "So we might as well profit from her stubbornness."

"Right," his friend agreed.

"New car?" Granger asked as she approached them. "Armoured?"

"Actually, yes," Ron replied. "How did you know?"

"Why else would you get a new and expensive - and, therefore, more noticeable - car?" She shook her head.

"You forgot to add 'elementary, Dr Watson'," Harry commented.

She chuckled despite his sarcastic tone. Harry must be losing his touch, Ron thought. "Let's go," he said. Harry held out his hand, but Ron shook his head. "Williamson said not to let you drive."

"Since when do we listen to him?" Harry complained.

"Since we're in headquarters. We can switch later," Ron said as he slid behind the wheel.

Since it was rather late in the morning, they made good time to the campus, and Granger got them into the underground staff parking lot without any trouble. Of course, she wanted to get out as soon as they parked, but Ron stopped her. "Wait."

"What?" She froze, glancing around.

"Let us check for trouble, first," Ron explained.

"But you're more likely to get shot if someone's waiting for us, aren't you?"

She looked serious. The woman was mental.

"More likely doesn't mean you won't get shot," Harry pointed out.

"And we're trained to spot an ambush," Ron added. And to deal with trouble.

But there were no vans, nor any other cars that would easily hide someone. No tinted windows, and not many big SUVs. Ron still felt quite exposed even after they had checked the possible ambush spots.

They reached Granger's lab without incident, though. And the woman went straight to work. Leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, Ron watched her take notes and use two calculators and her computer simultaneously.

She was far too calm and collected. Two murders on her doorstep in two days, her parents in hiding and she didn't bat an eye? It made no sense. Certainly not for someone who had been kidnapped as a kid.

She was hiding something, and he would find out what. Now.

"You recognised Yaxley," he said, staring at her.

She froze for a fraction of a second, tensing up, before glancing first at him, then at Harry. "I've never seen that man before in my life," she said in a far too calm voice.

"Yeah, right," Ron retorted, "I saw your reaction when he opened the door to his office. You recognised him. And you were frightened. Terrified."

She pressed her lips together, glaring at him, but he met her eyes. He'd stared down much more impressive people. And she had nothing on Mum's glare, anyway.

"I told you: I've never seen that man before."

"Did you recover part of your missing memory?" Harry cut in.

"No."

Harry went on: "If you did, you need to tell us. Whoever kidnapped you might be planning to do it again."

"I don't remember anything about my kidnapping," she replied.

"Even if Yaxley merely looks similar to your kidnapper, it would be very helpful - possibly crucial - to prevent another crime," Ron said.

"Aren't you listening? I told you: I don't remember anything about my kidnapping!" She stood, slamming her hands down on her desk, almost toppling over one of her stacks of paper.

"Why were you frightened of him, then?" Ron asked. "And you were; I saw your face."

Once more, she looked from him to Hary and back, then she raised her chin slightly. "If I knew who was involved in the kidnapping, I would denounce them at once! But I don't!" She wasn't quite crying, but her eyes looked wet. For Granger, that was almost a nervous breakdown.

Perhaps we should ease up, Ron thought. She was a traumatised kidnapping victim, after all. Not a criminal. Probably not.

But Harry was pushing. "Why were you frightened of Yaxley, then, if you can't remember anything and didn't have a flashback?"

"Panic attack. I'm doing much better than I used to, but sometimes they still happen." She had composed herself again. "Anything could trigger one."

Her answer explained her reaction. But Ron didn't believe her. She was lying. Ron could feel it in his gut. But he couldn't prove it.

"You didn't have a panic attack when I shot Crabbe. Or when Scrimgeour was murdered and we expected a follow-up attack on your flat," Harry pointed out.

"They happen randomly. Like my nightmares." She didn't sound smug, but there was a hint of relief, in Ron's opinion. She looked at them both, then sat down again and resumed working.

Ron clenched his teeth, swallowing a curse. He knew she was hiding something. He just didn't know what it was.

* * *

"You need to step away."

"What?" Ron stared at her. She hadn't said anything but 'Curry', 'please' and 'thank you' since their confrontation, and now she wanted…

"From the quantum mirror cage. I'm running a test."

Ah. He took a few steps to the side. "A test?"

"Yes." She bent down, connecting thick power cables to the base of the cage.

"And what's it supposed to do?"

"I'm just confirming that the power demands are met and that the cables can handle the strain."

"Really?" He didn't believe it. Granger wasn't the type. She would have tested that as soon as she had built the thing.

"Yes."

"We're in no danger of getting disintegrated, then? Reduced to our component atoms?"

"No." She looked annoyed, even with half her face hidden by her bushy mane. "This isn't Dr Who."

"Too bad. A Tardis would be great," he joked.

She tensed again and stepped back before walking to a console. "Don't go near the cage! And don't touch it!"

"One kind of precludes the other," Harry pointed out.

She glared at them, then flipped a switch, and the cage started to hum as tiny sparks appeared on its metal bars.

Ron half-expected her to yell 'It's alive!', but she only took more notes while cranking up the power until Ron expected an arc to appear between the bars at any moment, welding the machine shut. Or at least for her hair to get all puffy.

But neither happened before she finished her test and turned the thing off. "Just as predicted!" she announced, beaming at them for a moment, before her eyes widened and she turned away, returning to her desk without looking at them.

Mental, Ron thought again.

* * *

Hours later, Granger finally seemed done with her work for the day, picking up a stack of notes and stuffing them into her bag. She even seemed a little tired, instead of looking like she were raring to pull an all-nighter with a few gallons of tea and a few pounds of chocolate keeping her awake and fueled. "Can we pick up dinner on the way home?"

"We're not going to your home," Harry told her.

"What?" She stared at Ron's friend.

"Your flat isn't safe enough," he told her.

"I was told the police would be patrolling the area," she replied.

"They will. But it won't be enough. Not against people willing to murder Scrimgeour," Harry said. "A patrol could easily be taken out by a sniper."

"There's also the fact that there's no safe way to park the car in your area and transfer to your flat," Ron pointed out. "There aren't enough officers available to cover all possible sniping locations." And that was not even taking the possible threat from long-range snipers into account.

"I see." Granger nodded, to Ron's surprise - he had expected her to throw a tantrum. "So where are we going, then? A safe house?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed.

"I expect to be able to leave for work tomorrow," she said, frowning at them both.

"That's the plan," Ron said. "Unless something happens, of course." He didn't trust their luck after two shootings in two days.

"Let's go then." Granger nodded and started towards the door of her lab, prompting Ron and Harry to beat her there - a bodyguard didn't let their charge go first through any door.

Once more, they had to check the underground garage for an ambush. And the car for sabotage.

"I thought the police were guarding the perimeter," Granger said as Ron knelt down to check the bottom of the Audi.

"They are," Ron confirmed.

"But you still check for yourself, if you plan to stay alive in this business," Harry added.

Granger snorted. "Constant vigilance?" Had she met Moody? No - the old man would have told Ron and Harry. She rolled her eyes at Ron's expression. "You told me about your instructor."

Ah. But had they mentioned his catchphrase? Ron wasn't certain.

* * *

**Kingston Upon Thames, London, July 7th, 2005**

"This looks very ordinary," Granger commented as Ron put the takeaway containers on the table in the small house. "But it doesn't look like anyone lives here."

"No one does," Harry said as he passed them on the way to check the basement - they had already checked both floors of the house.

"That could tip off the neighbours that something's not normal, couldn't it?"

"The cover story takes that into account," Ron replied. "Some expat kept the family home even though he moved to Australia."

"With the right algorithm, you could probably find such safe houses," she mused. "Just look for similar setups."

"A search wouldn't narrow it down enough to be practical," Ron retorted. "And I doubt that there's a mailing list for nosey neighbours."

"Aunt Petunia would be on it if there were one," Harry cut in. "Cellar's clear as well," he added.

Granger didn't ask about Harry's aunt, Ron noticed. She merely nodded in acknowledgement. And the way she looked at Harry… was that sympathy? There hadn't been anything about Harry's strained relations to his family in the news.

"Let's eat," Harry said. "Before the food goes cold."

"There's a microwave," Granger had to point out, of course.

"That's not a reason to delay dinner any longer," Ron said. "I'm starving!" He was, actually.

Granger chuckled, shaking her head with a bemused expression, but a moment later, she closed up again, frowning as if she was angry at herself.

Dinner ended up being a rather quiet affair, and Granger was up and headed towards the stairs before Ron had finished his own meal.

"Which room's mine?"

"The small one with the single bed," Harry said - he had also finished his meal already. "We'll take the double."

Not that they needed it - one of them would be keeping guard while the other slept, and vice versa. But neither did Granger need a larger bed. Such things only happened in movies.

Two hours later, Ron heard her scream.

* * *

_She didn't want to do it. The last time she had done it… She shivered at the memory. Fur. Fangs. Whiskers. Ears that seemed to move of their own accord. Claws sliding out of her fingers at the slightest provocation. And a twitching tail that had a will of its own. And the instincts..._

_She shook her head. That wouldn't happen again. This was safe. Mostly. As safe as she could make it - she had checked and taken the hairs herself._

"_Hey! Is something wrong?"_

_He was looking at her. Smiling, despite their situation._

_She returned his smile. "It's alright, Ron. I'm just a little…" She shrugged._

_He nodded. "I know. Harry's keeping an eye on them."_

_She closed her eyes. Just for a moment. Taking a deep breath - facing away from the empty cauldron and its lingering smell - she stood. "The vials are ready." _

"_Ah." He knew what that meant. Wetting his lips, he looked back, over his shoulder, through the tent's entrance._

"_Let's go." She nodded and stepped past him, out of the tent._

_Harry was leaning against the closest tree, watching their captives. Mafalda Hopkirk. Albert Runcorn. Corban Yaxley. Laid out on the ground, bound with magical ropes and covered with jinxes that prevented all known methods of magical travel. And still drooling from the overdose of Veritaserum Hermione had force-fed them, and the mind spells she had used on them._

_Their bodies and knowledge would allow Hermione and her friends to reach Umbridge. She handed the boys a dozen vials each, and the hairs she had tested._

"_Remember: We go in, get the locket and leave," Ron said. "We don't get sidetracked."_

"_Of course," Hermione agreed, feeling a little annoyed. She knew perfectly well that the locket took priority. "No attacking targets of opportunity. No matter how tempting." She dropped one hair into a vial, then toasted her friends._

_A moment later, she felt her body change._

_She was sick when they returned. Literally - she knelt down in the grass and retched, barely noticing how he held her hair back. Not that she cared. The things she had seen, in the Ministry… The crimes she'd had to watch, without being able to lift a finger, much less her wand, to help, lest she compromise their crucial mission..._

_She spat the last of her bile on the ground, then rinsed her mouth with a glass of water Harry had conjured. "Thanks."_

_He nodded at her._

"_Those bastards…" Ron spat._

_She turned her head to look at their captives. They were awake, now, but still silenced and bound. They couldn't move, but they could watch._

_Harry and Ron glanced at each other. "Better seal the locket up right now," Harry said._

_She knew what he was thinking. And she was tempted to agree. Enter the tent. Ignore what was going to happen. It would be easy. And it would be wrong._

_As the Headmaster used to say: You had to decide whether you did what was right or what was easy. And she knew what was right. They hadn't been able to save the poor prisoners in the Ministry. But they could ensure that their captives wouldn't hurt anyone any more ever again._

_She shook her head. "No. Let's get this over with."_

"_Are you sure?"_

_She gave Ron a look, and he backed off._

_She picked Yaxley. He was staring at her, his face frozen, only his eyes moving, as she approached. She was tempted to yell at him. Confront him with his crimes. Make him confess. Make him sweat._

_But she just pointed her wand at his head._

"Reducto."


	4. Chapter 4: The Inside Job

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Inside Job**

**Kingston Upon Thames, London, July 8th, 2005**

Ron entered Granger's room with his gun drawn, looking for a threat. There wasn't any. But thanks to the light from the hallway, he could see Granger sitting up in the bed, hands furiously wiping her face. Though there was nothing on her face. And she was panting. He could see her chest heaving.

A panic attack if he had ever seen one. Or a flashback, part of his mind whispered.

She blinked, finally noticing him. "Ro…" She broke off, swallowing. "Officer Weasley," she said, more calmly.

"Dr Granger. Nightmare?"

She nodded. "Yes." Her hand rose, almost touching her left cheek before she dropped it again.

Harry arrived a moment later, wearing his trousers and not much else. He looked at Granger, then at Ron and sighed. "False alarm?"

"I had a nightmare," Granger said. She was staring at Harry's chest, Ron noticed. Most people did when they first saw his scar.

"I wasn't hit by a cannon," Harry told her in the same slightly annoyed tone he always used when explaining his infamous mark. "It was a normal gun - the scar just grew with me."

"Ah." Granger didn't ask any questions and stopped staring at Harry. Only one person had reacted like that in this situation, as far as Ron knew: Luna, when she had met Harry swimming a few laps in the pond at Ron's home. And Luna was pretty much the antithesis of Granger.

He glanced at his friend and found Harry looking surprised. Perhaps even a little disappointed that Granger wasn't pushing for more details - Harry didn't like talking about the events that led to him getting the scar, but he liked telling off nosy people. Well, it seemed that Granger wasn't going to give him the opportunity.

"So…" She was looking at him. "You have ascertained that I merely had a nightmare and am not in lethal danger."

Ron nodded. "Yes."

"Then there's no reason to stay in my room any longer, is there?" She pulled her sheets up as if Ron had been staring at her. He hadn't, though - not that she was naked, in any case; she had taken a nightie from the safe house's stock.

"No, there isn't," Harry agreed, glancing at Ron.

Ron merely nodded curtly and left the room. "I don't know what's wrong with her," he said in a low voice once they were back in the hallway. "She goes from scared to considerate to abrasive inside of a minute."

"There's nothing in her file about any mental health issues - apart from trauma related to her kidnapping," Harry said, heading back to the bedroom.

"Whoever examined her might have missed something. Or it could be a recent development," Ron replied. "When I went in, she was about to call me 'Ron', and a moment later, she was all distant."

Harry stopped at the door and looked at him. "She was about to call you 'Ron'?"

"Yes." Ron knew what he had heard.

"Are you able to read minds now?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "She said 'Ro…', then stopped."

"That's not very conclusive," Harry retorted. "Could have wanted to call you a rotten bastard."

Ron chuckled at that. "Perhaps she did," he admitted. But he didn't think so. "Anyway, we should…" He blinked. Had that been…?

"That was the alarm we placed on the door," Harry confirmed. "Someone's breaking in." And they hadn't triggered the regular alarm.

"Could be a burglar," Ron said as he pulled his cell phone out. The cover story claimed that the house was unoccupied for long periods, and the special curtains kept the lights inside from showing outside. A burglar might think the house was unoccupied.

No signal. That was… "Someone's jamming the cell phones." No burglar would do that. Moody had been right again - always expect the worst, Moody liked to say, and so far this assignment had been one mess after another.

Harry cursed.

"Get your shoes and get Granger, I'll cover the stairs," Ron whispered, already moving towards them.

A moment later, he was crouched at the top of the stairs, pistol aimed at the door below. Any moment now… Behind him, he could hear Harry go into Granger's bedroom.

It took a little longer for the perps to pick the lock than he had expected. Harry would have gone through it in half the time - and he wouldn't have triggered the alarm. Whoever this was, they hadn't been trained by Moody.

Then the door was pushed open - slowly - and the first thing Ron saw was the muzzle of an AK-47. Definitely not a burglar, then. And not - as had happened before to a CI5 team in a safe house - Met officers investigating a possible burglary that the neighbours had reported.

No need to call out a warning, either, against that kind of firepower. When the head of the criminal, face covered by a ski mask, appeared, Ron squeezed the trigger and fired a 9 mm bullet into it. The man dropped dead in the doorway, his assault rifle clattering on the ground. Pushed by the falling body, the door swung open, and Ron spotted someone moving outside, but they took cover before he could snap off another shot.

What would they do now? They had lost their point man and the element of surprise. Smart criminals would retreat in this situation. But smart criminals didn't carry Russian assault rifles. Or murder police officers with sniper rifles.

Footsteps behind him! He glanced over his shoulder. Harry was in the doorway of Granger's room, with Granger herself behind him. She looked like he had dragged her out of her bed - still in her nightie, but clutching her bag. Nice legs.

He focused on the door again. "Got one," he said in a low voice, "but there's at least one more outside."

Harry pulled Granger down at once. "We need to get to the car."

Which was in the garage. They could reach it without leaving the house, but going down the stairs would put them into the field of fire of a sniper covering the front of the house. And Ron would bet that the same man who had murdered Scrimgeour was out there.

"Someone has to have heard the shot and called the police," Granger said.

"Cell phones are jammed," Harry replied. "They wouldn't have forgotten to sabotage the landlines either."

"Who would be able to do that?" she asked.

"The same sort of people who could find out which safe house we picked," Harry replied.

Granger's gasp told Ron that she realised who Harry meant.

Traitors within CI5.

Something flew through the door, trailing flames, and hit the floor in the entrance area, shattering. A moment later, flames sprang up.

"They're trying to smoke us out," Ron yelled, squeezing off two shots in the general direction of the door - just in case the enemy was planning a charge.

"Where's the fire extinguisher?" Granger asked.

"Don't!" Ron heard Harry yell. "They'll be waiting for us to go down so they can shoot."

"But they want me…"

Ron cut her off. "Even if they want you alive, they won't expect you to be first and will shoot anyway."

Below, the fire was spreading. He could already smell smoke. They needed to get out of here - but the enemy would be waiting for them.

"We need to get to the car," Harry repeated himself.

Ron agreed. It was their best chance - as far as they could tell, since the alarm they had placed there hadn't gone off, no one had broken into the garage yet. They just needed to get down to the ground floor and into the garage without getting shot.

He heard glass shatter, and the flickering light below grew stronger. Someone had thrown another petrol bottle into the living room. Time was running out. "The fire extinguisher!" he yelled.

"What?" Harry and Granger asked, but Ron was already running past them, towards the corner of the hallway. If it was… yes! It was a powder extinguisher!

He grabbed it and sprinted back. "Harry, grab Granger and follow me! I'll cover us."

"What? But you said they'll…" Granger started.

Ron ignored her and pulled the trigger on the extinguisher, quickly covering the stairs, then the entrance area, in a thick cloud of fine powder before holding his breath and sprinting downstairs. They wouldn't be able to shoot if they wanted Granger alive, but if they wanted to kill her…

He reached the ground floor without stumbling or getting shot and sent a powder cloud out the door, then covered the hallway and stairs again before moving towards the garage.

A shriek behind him made him stop, but a moment later, Harry yelled: "I've got her, go on!"

Ron reached the entrance to the garage, dropping the sputtering extinguisher and entering the garage with his pistol out again, quickly covering and checking the area while taking a deep breath. "Clear!" he announced as Harry arrived, Granger in tow. Both were covered in white powder - like Ron himself.

Harry let go of her hand and rushed to the driver's side of the Audi while Granger bent over, coughing and wheezing.

"Come on!" Ron told her, grabbing her and all but stuffing her into the car. He spotted someone moving in the hallway through the thinning clouds of powder and fired off two more shots, pushing the car door closed with his hip.

Another shot for good measure followed, then he jumped into the passenger seat as Harry gunned the engine.

Ron managed to pull the armoured door closed a second before Harry crashed through the opening door, wrecking it and their paint job. "Get down!" he yelled.

Granger shrieked as shots rang out, armoured windows getting covered in shallow craters where bullets failed to penetrate the glass - mostly on Harry's side, Ron noticed.

His friend put the car into a narrow turn, narrowly missing a parked SUV, and Ron felt the slight shock when one of their tyres got shot. That wouldn't stop the car, though, certainly not with Harry behind the wheel. Ron's partner accelerated and drove the Audi down the road. A far too tight turn round the closest street corner later, they were clear.

That didn't mean that they were safe, of course. Ron pressed his lips together as he started to come down from the adrenalin high of combat, reholstering his pistol - after a tactical reload, of course.

"How did they find us?" Granger asked. "Who knew that we were there?"

That was the crux of the issue. "No one outside CI5 knew of that safe house. Even fewer knew we were there," Ron said.

"There's a leak, then. Probably the same leak that caused Scrimgeour's death." Granger went on.

"It's possible," Harry agreed.

Granger scoffed. "Do you honestly think that you have two leaks in your organisation?"

If CI5 had been penetrated by two different organisations, they would be the laughing stock of the police service, Ron knew. Worse than they already were, of course - many would love to see CI5 taken down a notch or two. Especially the Met - Bones and Scrimgeour had a tendency to run roughshod over them when solving a case. And Ron would be lying if he claimed not to have enjoyed their special status at times.

"In either case, I don't trust CI5 any more," Granger went on. "As an organisation. You two are above suspicion, of course."

"Why, thank you for the vote of confidence," Harry drawled.

Ron chuckled.

"You saved me twice," Granger replied. "But I worry about my parents."

"And you don't trust Yaxley," Ron said.

"No, I don't. But I don't have any logical reason for my suspicion."

"Female intuition?" Ron joked.

Granger snorted at that.

"We'll have to call Bones. We can trust her - if she were compromised, she would have simply replaced us with other agents," Ron said. But would Bones know who to trust?

"And we'll need burner phones," Harry added.

"Pardon?"

"Too many know our cell phone numbers. Any traitor would be able to track us through them," Ron explained. "They'll be tracking us already, but Harry's driving too fast for them to find us."

"Ah."

Harry had to stop at a red light. "Yes. But that's only a temporary solution. Call Bones and fill her in."

Ron pulled out his phone. He had a signal again.

* * *

**Soho, London, July 8th, 2005**

Ron checked carefully for any tails or witnesses before he approached the rental lockers near the hostel and Tube station. He didn't spot anyone suspicious, though, before he reached the locker they had rented - on Moody's advice. Ten seconds later, he was walking away with a sports bag in hand. Just another young man coming home late from a trip.

He snorted - it was a little too late at night for that.

"Trouble?" Harry asked as he approached the side alley where his friend was hiding with Granger - they were slightly underdressed for clubbing.

"No," Ron replied, putting the bag down and opening it. "Let's get you two dressed." They'd have to get one of their weapon bags, later - whoever was behind this had too much firepower to rely on their pistols. Bones would loathe it, but they had no choice.

"You've got female clothes in the bag?" Granger sounded sceptical.

"Unisex," Ron replied with a grin, handing Harry a phone and pocketing one himself. "You can wear some jeans and shirts of ours. Might be a little loose on you, though."

Granger nodded. "I'll manage."

For a certain definition of 'manage', Ron thought a minute later. Ginny wouldn't have been caught dead wearing rolled-up jeans - even Harry's were far too long for Granger - and a loose shirt. Well, not so loose in the chest, he noticed. Though it wasn't as if he were staring - but as a police officer, he was trained to notice details.

"So, Bones said to 'lay low and contact her in a day or two'," Harry summed up as they were walking down the street five minutes later. "We've already ditched the car with our phones." Well, they left it in a car park. Bones would recover it from the Met. "Which means we're on our own for now."

"Seeing as you have a private getaway bag hidden in London - and I doubt that you only had one - I assume that you're prepared for this," Granger commented.

Ron chuckled at Harry's pout. "We've got a few options," his friend said. "You might not like them."

"I'll manage," Granger replied, patting her bag. Did she expect them to go camping for a few days and rely on her MREs?

"Good, since you're the weak link here," Harry told her with a grin. "We've got fake IDs for ourselves, but, obviously, not for you. Which means we'll have to find a hotel where they won't ask questions if a woman visits two men in their room. You'll have to dress up."

Granger gaping, finally at a loss for words - if only for a few seconds - was a sight Ron would treasure.

* * *

Even after being told that she wouldn't be posing as a prostitute, just a party girl, Granger was still fuming. The woman couldn't take a joke.

"And where will you get 'appropriate clothes'?" she asked. "Unless you think jeans and a shirt are the height of fashion in the club scene. Which, I'll have you know, they aren't."

"Second-hand shop," Ron replied, checking for tails while Harry took point.

"I wasn't aware that there were any open at this time of the night," she commented.

"There aren't," Ron told her. "And if there were, using them might draw attention." Unlikely, but not impossible, as Moody liked to say.

"Breaking into a shop will also draw attention," she retorted.

"Only if they notice." He grinned at her. "Which they won't, I'll have you know."

She really didn't like having her own words quoted back at her. Or she loathed his imitation of her. Either way, her glare was a sight to see.

"Knock it off, you two, and get with the programme. People are staring," Harry cut in. "We're here, anyway."

"Here?" Granger had to ask.

"At 'Fabolous Frankie's'," Ron said. "The second-hand shop which will help us turn you hip. Or at least get you into clothes that were fashionable this millennium."

"You don't exactly dress like a model either," she shot back.

"Not yet." He grinned.

"So that means you will commit fraud as well as petty theft?"

He had to laugh at the implied insult. "Good one. You'd almost think you have a sense of humour!"

"I do have a sense of humour," she retorted, proving Ron right, "it's just a little more sophisticated than yours."

"I see. You must have left it in your flat, then? Or did you feed it to your quantum mirror cage?"

"Dial down the flirting, you two," Harry interrupted. "We have a shop to break into."

"Funny," Granger commented in a tone that meant the opposite.

Ron chuckled, though, and went to help Harry with the lock on the back door of Frankie's. This wouldn't take long. Well, breaking in wouldn't take long. Finding clothes that made Granger look trendy would be a challenge.

It didn't take long. Frankie hadn't changed the lock since the last time they had checked for stolen goods without a warrant or his knowledge. Lazy - but then, most people able to easily pick his locks wouldn't waste their time on his cheap clothes.

"Come," Ron whispered, holding out his hand to Granger as Harry opened the door.

She scoffed and ignored it, walking past him. He frowned behind her back. If she stumbled and broke something...

She didn't, and they reached the back room of the shop without trouble. Unlike some of his competitors', Frankie's storage area had no windows. It was perfect for some after-hours shopping - Ron wasn't keen on picking clothes in the dark, or in the dim light of a penlight, just so the passers-by outside wouldn't notice them.

"And here we are! Clubbing clothes, self-service!" Ron announced as he flicked the light switch on and revealed rows and stacks of clothes.

Granger picked up a shredded 'Sex Pistols' T-shirt from the closest stack and frowned. "Punk has been dead for a quarter of a century," she said.

"It's vintage now," Ron told her, "but I don't think torn fishnets would look right on you." Although her hair certainly fit the punk look.

"And what would suit me, then?"

"Leather?" He grinned at her.

"I don't ride a bike," she replied, a moment before her eyes narrowed. "I think a gimp suit would be fitting for you."

"I didn't think you knew what a gimp suit was," he said. Or that she had understood his veiled dig.

"I know a great deal more than you imagine."

"I can imagine quite a bit."

She sniffed. "I doubt that if you have to quote movies as comebacks."

And Harry chuckled behind the row of older jackets.

"If not for Ginny, you'd be stuck in the 90s," Ron told him.

"Like you?" Harry shot back.

Ron scoffed. Then he saw the perfect outfit for Granger and grinned. "Hey! Take this!" He waited until she was about to turn around, then threw the torn jeans and bustier towards her. She managed to catch them, though, before they hit her in the face, but her expression when she held them up was still amusing.

"Are you serious?" She shook her head.

"No, that's Harry's godfather."

"That joke's older than these clothes."

"It's a second-hand shop. But this look's only about three years old," Ron replied.

"Britney Spears wants her clothes back."

"She's rich enough to buy new ones. Put them on - you'll be able to run in them as well if you need to. And the style fits your bag."

To his surprise, she agreed.

Some people had no fashion sense.

Although, Ron had to admit ten minutes later, Granger looked hot in tight, ripped jeans and a bustier that might have been a size too small - not his fault; Granger hadn't exactly flaunted her figure. Well, hot compared to her usual look, at least, he amended his thought.

And she was blushing a little, he realised, even as she glared at him.

"Perfect!" he stated.

Harry agreed, although Ron couldn't tell if his friend merely wanted to leave as soon as possible.

* * *

They found a youth hostel at the edge of Soho with a bored night clerk behind the reception desk. Bored and stoned, Ron corrected himself as he caught a whiff of the distinctive smell of marijuana. Must have had a spliff outside.

The man didn't even glance at their fake passports. However, the security camera in the corner didn't look broken - but it was mounted so high, just keeping one's head down would prevent it from recording their faces. Not that it was very likely that their enemies would get the recordings, but Ron wasn't about to get sloppy now.

"So… uh… you stay past noon, you pay for another night," the clerk drawled as he handed them their keycard. "That's noon, not half past noon. Got it?"

Harry nodded. "Got it. We'll probably be staying a few days anyway - depends on the 'scene', you know?"

"Birds," Ron added with a lecherous grin.

"Ah!" The stoner nodded. "Sure thing."

The guy was already looking for his next spliff, Ron saw as they went upstairs.

The room was passable. Solid door, though the lock wouldn't take a professional more than ten seconds to pick, the bed and bathroom looked clean and it was on the first floor - they would be able to jump down to the street if they had to.

After dropping their 'travelling bags' on the bed, they left again, asking the clerk - who didn't even bother to leave his smoking blunt outside this time - about the best club for 'chatting up birds'.

Granger was where they had left her - waiting in the replacement car, hiding behind the passenger seat. With the car parked in the darkest corner of the car park, the only way anyone would have been able to spot her would have been by shining a flashlight into the car. Still, Ron felt quite relieved to see her glare at them when they opened the doors.

"Am I allowed to leave the car now? Or have you decided to make me sleep in the trunk?"

Ron rubbed his chin, pretending to think it over, but Harry kicked his shin. "We got a room, and it'll be easy to sneak you inside without the night clerk noticing."

"You mean I didn't have to dress up like this?" she asked.

"You still needed to change your appearance," Ron retorted. "No one will connect a party girl with Dr Granger."

"Should dye your hair, though," Harry added. "Or cut it and get a wig. We should be able to get one tomorrow."

"My hair's fine," she replied in an icy tone, running a hand over her messy pony-tail.

"Fine's not the word I'd use." Ron shook his head. More like 'catastrophic' or 'in need of emergency hair care'.

"Your haircut doesn't exactly hint at any competence regarding hairstyling," she replied.

"That's enough," Harry cut in. "Let's head inside."

"You're starting to sound like Percy," Ron whispered as they walked back to the hostel. "If you get any more respectable, Ginny'll expect a proposal."

"Mind your own business," Harry shot back.

He must have touched a nerve. But then, Ginny had been hoping for a proposal since before she and Harry had gotten together.

The night clerk was busy getting high as they entered and not at his desk, so all they had to do was make Granger keep her head down and act drunk as they passed the camera and then they were safely inside the room.

With the single king-sized bed, Ron realised a moment before Granger did and loudly voiced her displeasure with the arrangement.

* * *

Ron woke up with a tangled mess of bushy hair in front of his face. What the… Someone was shaking him. Harry!

"It's eight am. Time to get up."

Ron rolled back to their side of the bed, away from Granger before she could wake up and take offence. "Why didn't you pull me back before I tried to use her as a pillow?" he complained in a low voice. Harry had been on guard; he would have noticed.

"It was funny to watch you move closer in your sleep," Harry told him with a smirk.

"Ha ha." It was as funny as the twins' spider pranks, in Ron's opinion. And, given Granger's temper, probably twice as dangerous.

Speaking of the devil… he saw Granger twist, roll on her back, then turn her head to glare at them. "You woke me up."

"It's time to get up," Harry said - far too cheerfully, in Ron's opinion.

"And you apparently let him almost molest me in my sleep." Her glare grew more furious. "That's exactly why I didn't want to share the bed."

"I would have pulled him back before he touched you," Harry replied. "But as long as you weren't actually touching, where's the harm?"

For once, Ron fully shared Granger's opinion. He'd have to get back at Harry - once they were done with this case.

She huffed. "So, what's the plan for today? Dress up as mimes and hide in the city? Join the circus?"

Harry ignored her sarcasm. "We'll get breakfast, then rest until lunch. Like normal partying tourists."

"And no, we won't go back to your lab," Ron added. "They'll be waiting there, and I don't fancy getting shot by a sniper."

"Won't you contact your superior?" Granger asked as she slid out of the bed.

"She said to wait a day or two; it's not even been half a day," Ron replied.

"Wouldn't she have asked you to wait for twenty-four to forty-eight hours instead, if she didn't mean the next day?"

Scientists! Ron sidestepped the question. "She was probably up all night. I'd rather not call her when she's going to sleep."

She scoffed in return and entered the bathroom.

Ron closed his eyes and leaned back. It would be a while until he could go take a shower. For all her lack of makeup and hairstyling, Granger did take her time in the bathroom.

* * *

"Can I ask you a question?" Ron asked an hour later, after the waiter in the street café they had picked had finally brought their order.

She looked up from her cup of tea. "Yes?"

No sarcastic comment. A good sign. Hopefully. "Why are you so fixated on your work? It's not curing cancer, or fusion power or anything that can't wait a few days or weeks, is it? Just experimental physics."

He could see her jaw set and her lips turn into a thin line for a moment, before she sighed. "It's personal."

"That's obvious," he replied, then winced. "Sorry. I don't want to pry, but..."

"Then don't."

He pushed on, ignoring Harry's glances. "But you're willing to risk your life for it." And Harry's and his own, incidentally. "I don't understand why you're doing this." She was acting as if lives depended on her success. As if people would die if she failed.

"It's personal," she repeated herself. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

She closed up again and stared at her teacup.

"It's not related to your past, is it?" He couldn't think of a reason it would be, but he didn't know what had happened to her. No one did.

"What?" For a moment, she stared at him with wide eyes. "No, of course not."

She was lying. He was certain of that.

"We're risking our lives for you," he went on. "We need to know why your work is so important."

She shook her head, rather violently. "As you said, as I told you, my work isn't really important to anyone other than myself."

"So the people sending killers after you are doing so because they made a mistake and think your work is important?" That was ridiculous.

"It's the only explanation that makes sense!" she retorted.

Ron doubted that. Her work wasn't a secret, and the kind of criminals - or spies - who had the resources to kill Scrimgeour and infiltrate CI5 weren't the kind of people who made such mistakes.

He bit into his slice of buttered toast, glancing at Granger. It was like a puzzle with missing pieces. But he'd solve it.

* * *

"She knows what this is about," Harry said after Granger had gone to the bathroom.

"I'm not sure," Ron replied, keeping an eye on the door. "She's lying, but I'm not sure what she's lying about."

"The kidnapping."

"That makes no sense." Ron shook his head. "What could have happened that she can't talk about but would lead to her becoming a wanted woman - wanted for her work as a quantum physicist?"

"Her work is the only reason anyone would be going to these lengths," his friend said. "After all these years, at least."

Ron wasn't convinced. "We're missing something. Something crucial."

Harry made a non-committal noise. Ron tore his eyes off the door and looked at his friend. He looked… concerned. "What?" Ron asked.

"You seem to be taking a personal interest in this case."

"What?" Ron blinked when he realised what Harry was hinting at. "I'm interested in the case, not in her."

Harry didn't look like he believed Ron. But he was wrong. Granger wasn't his type. Too snippy, too plain, too arrogant.

* * *

**Clissold Park, Stoke Newington, London, July 9th, 2005**

Ron didn't like this. They were too exposed. Too vulnerable. "Who arranges a meeting in a bloody park?" he muttered, eyes scanning the closest hedge. Especially with a sniper on the loose.

"Your boss," Granger, standing next to him in a floral-print summer dress even Luna would probably consider too tacky, replied. At least her ratty bag wasn't visible, having been stuffed into a larger linen handbag.

"I know that. I was asking a rhetorical question," he snapped. At her surprised, then rapidly darkening glare, he added: "Sorry."

"You said Bones could be trusted," she said.

"Yes." Ron forced himself not to look back at the tree in which Harry was hiding with the L1A1 they had taken from their private depot. His friend had his back. Their back. "She can be trusted. Bones would rather die than bend the law, much less break it."

"But you don't trust her subordinates."

He glanced at Granger. Her lips, pretty much the only thing visible of her face under the wide-brimmed hat she was wearing, were forming a thin line. "We don't know who the traitor inside CI5 is. We don't have any clues," he added.

"I told you that I had never seen Yaxley before," she snapped.

"I didn't mention his name," he pointed out.

"I know what you meant to say," she retorted. "And I'm telling you: I don't know anything about a traitor in CI5."

"But you think it's Yaxley."

"I have no proof nor any rational reason to suspect him."

"That's not a denial." He bared his teeth. Gotcha!

"Can you at least try to act like a couple out on an afternoon stroll?" Harry's voice interrupted his next line before he could voice it.

"We're a couple going through a break-up," Ron shot back. "We tried to talk it out in the park, and we failed." It was an even better cover than Harry's idea - who would expect a bodyguard to argue like this with his charge? Well, anyone who knew Granger, obviously.

"We're what? Ah." Granger, who couldn't hear Harry, nodded. "Good idea."

He smiled at her. "Thank you."

"Now they're getting along!" he heard Harry sigh over the radio.

"You're just…" Ron started, but, once more, Harry cut him off.

"Bones's arriving. East entrance."

Ron whirled around. Yes, there was a woman walking towards them in a sharp suit. About the right height and weight - though the hair was blonde. A wig, he realised once the woman came closer.

"Weasley."

Yes, that was Bones - Ron would recognise her annoyed voice in his sleep. "Boss," he replied.

"Are you alone?" Granger showed her usual tact.

"Of course," Bones replied. "No one knows I'm here. Not even Alastor - though he'll suspect."

"You didn't even bring a guard?" Granger blurted out.

"My trusted officers have more important tasks than playing bodyguard." Bones sneered. "Such as protecting your parents as they go into hiding and hunting down the mole in my department."

"I see," Granger replied. "Things are worse in CI5 than I feared, then."

Ron cleared his throat before Granger could make Bones even angrier. "What're our orders, ma'am?"

"You're reassigned. You and Potter will help Alastor hunt the mole. We need to find the traitor yesterday."

Ron gasped almost against his will. But that would… "Who'll take over for us?"

"No one. I'll take Granger to her parents - at a location only known by myself. That way, we only need one protective detail for the entire family."

That made sense. A lot of sense, actually. And Ron was happy to go on the offensive, instead of hiding and running. But… He glanced at Granger. She looked grim again.

"Any questions?"

"No, ma'am." He turned to Granger. "I guess this is goodbye, then."

"Yes." He saw her bite her lower lip as if she was unsure what else to say. "Thank you for all you've done," she said after a moment.

"Just doing my job," he replied - and winced when she flinched before nodding without any expression.

"Smooth," Harry added his unneeded opinion.

"Let's go, then. If I don't return in time, Alastor will assume the worst," Bones said, already turning around.

"Alright." Granger glanced at him, then took a few steps to catch up with Bones.

And he was watching her walk away. Cursing under his breath, he turned away.

"Company!" Harry yelled into his ear. "A car just pulled up next to Bones's with armed men!"

Ron whirled, sprinting towards Granger and Bones, while Harry started shooting. He saw the attackers appear in the entrance, one falling as Harry's shots found their mark. Bones pushed Granger down and opened fire as well. He was still too far away to hit anyone reliably, but just a few more seconds…

Bones went down, part of her head missing.

"Sniper!" Harry yelled.

Ron had almost reached Granger - Bones was beyond help - and started to weave while shooting at the attackers. He just had to make them seek cover until he had pulled Granger to safety. Harry could cover them - and spot the sniper. "Run!" he yelled. "Ru…"

Something hit his chest with enough force to make him stumble and fall. He rolled across the ground, coming to rest on his belly.

Then the pain in hit him. He had been hit. Sniper. Hit but not killed. He had to get up. Get Granger to safety. Get up. Shoot. Get up. Get up.

Suddenly, everything went dark.

* * *

"_They've gotten in! They've gotten in!"_

"_What?" She gasped._

"_Death Eaters! They've gotten in!" Neville came to a stop next to her, panting. "Coming through the defence classroom."_

_That couldn't be true. This was Hogwarts - the safest place in Britain. She shook her head. It was impossible!_

"_We have to tell the others! Tell them to barricade the dorms!" Neville regained his breath._

"_Where are Harry and Ron?" She asked. They had been with him, headed towards the Room of Requirement to prepare for the next DA lesson._

"_They went to tell Dumbledore. Luna went to Ravenclaw Tower," Neville replied._

"_I'll tell the Hufflepuffs. Go to our dorm!" she snapped and broke into a run towards the kitchens. The Hufflepuff dorm was right next to them. The closest route was two stairs down, across the courtyard… _

_She took the stairs three steps at a time, jumping the last five and whirling without losing speed - not after more than a year's worth of training with the DA. She didn't dash across the courtyard, though - she stuck to the hallways, keeping under cover._

_She was almost at the kitchens when she heard the screaming. Wand drawn, she stopped at the corner, then peered around._

_And gasped again. There were two dead house-elves on the ground. Reductor Curses, she realised. And a Death Eater was standing there, over a student. Hannah._

_The other witch was screaming, countless cuts sprouting all over her body. Hermione recognised the curse - Sectumsempra, from Snape's book._

_Her Bludgeoning Curse smashed into the Death Eater's shield. The man whirled round instead of diving for cover, and her second curse hit him in the chest, flinging him into the wall with bone-breaking force._

_She dashed forward, readying the counter-curse, but before she reached Hannah, her own shield was shattered by another curse - the Death Eater was still in the fight._

_She dropped to the ground and cast another volley of Bludgeoning Curses that took the man down for good, then scrambled forward, wand flashing as she cast._

_When she finished her counter-curse, Hannah had stopped screaming. And stopped breathing._


	5. Chapter 5: The Truth

Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Truth**

**Clissold Park, Stoke Newington, London, July 9th, 2005**

He wasn't dead. Yet. Ron could still feel the pain in his chest. And the grass beneath him. And he could hear screaming. And shooting - from Harry. But he couldn't see anything - it was suddenly completely dark. In the middle of the afternoon. Oh, God - he had gone blind! Had he been shot in the head as well? Not that it mattered, not with a sucking chest wound, and with his legs refusing to work.

"Ron! What happened?" Harry.

"Don't know," he managed to reply.

Then he felt someone touching him, patting him down. Up. Holding his shoulder.

"Hold on!"

Granger. He recognised her voice. Easily. And lowered the pistol he had started to raise - his arms still worked, despite the pain.

"Run!" he spat.

"What?" Harry asked. Another shot followed.

"Drink this!"

"Wha...?" Ron managed to say before a hand on his face cut him off. She was feeling around for his mouth, he realised - she must be unable to see anything either. Then something cold touched his lips. The rim of a glass.

"Drink!"

And she tipped his head back while pushing the glass to his mouth. He screamed at the pain the movement caused to his wound, then gargled when cold liquid filled his mouth and ran down his throat. He coughed and sputtered. "Are you trying to drown me?"

"Ron?" He heard Harry's voice again.

"Shhh."

Once more, she patted him down - reaching for his wound.

"Don't!" he hissed. The expected pain didn't come.

"What are you doing?" Harry sounded frantic. "Everything disappeared in a black cloud."

"Get up! We need to run!" Granger hissed. "They'll come after us any moment now!"

Ron chuckled. "You run! I'm done for."

"No, you're not! Come on!"

She pulled on his arm. Once more, there was no pain. What drug had she given him?

He tried to get up, if only to stop her from dragging him. It worked. "Hell of a drug," he muttered.

"Drug?" Harry asked.

"Come on!"

He started to run, her hand in his. He'd bleed out any moment, but there was no pain. And his legs were working again.

And then he could see again - they were running towards Harry's position. He glanced back. A huge sphere of utter darkness - pitch black - covered most of the area, blocking the line of sight to the attackers.

Another shot rang out from Harry's M4 carbine, and Ron saw a man who had been trying to flank them collapse.

"Run!" Harry yelled.

They ran.

Ron expected to be shot at any second. To collapse from blood loss - he was feeling light-headed, but that was probably the drug's effect. But his whole front was covered in blood. His own blood. Instead of dying, he managed to keep running and reach the copse of trees where Harry was hiding.

He followed Granger behind a thick tree and leaned against it, sliding to the ground. He swallowed, panting, and then, gingerly, pulled his blood-soaked shirt up to check his wound.

So much blood. "I need a bandage," he said.

"I'm coming!" Harry all but yelled.

"No, keep shooting them. Keep them away," Ron retorted - but Harry was already on the ground, rushing towards them.

"Fuck!" his friend cursed, crouching down next to him and pulling out an emergency bandage from his belt. "You'll make it!"

Where was the wound? Ron stared at his chest, brushing the drying blood away. Where was the wound? He had been shot. He had bled. He had felt it.

Where the hell was his wound?

He looked up. Harry was staring at him. Ron turned his head, looking at Granger. Harry did the same.

"What the hell did you give me?"

"A rare potion."

"A what?" Had she said potion? "A magic potion of healing?"

"Exactly."

"We can discuss this later. We need to go _now_," Harry snapped. "Before they recover their nerve. They'll be trying to flank us already, and it looks like the darkness is fading."

"It should last a little longer," Granger replied.

Ron pushed himself up, feeling more than a little dizzy. He steadied himself with one hand against the tree. He had gone through worse. In a manner of speaking. Granger took a step towards him but stopped when he pushed off and started jogging.

They made it out of the small patch of trees and bushes, on to the gravel path leading out of the park.

The sight of Harry's carbine was too much for the few passers-by who hadn't yet fled despite all the shooting and screaming. Harry tried to hide the gun under his shirt, but that didn't work very well.

Not that Ron could help - he had enough trouble just going on and keeping up with the others. Even Granger noticed - she slowed down, but he shook his head, gritted his teeth and pushed on. Their car was close by, anyway. He just had to last until then.

He barely made it. If anyone had tried to intercept them, he would have been useless. And dead. Not that he felt too alive right now, either. He grabbed the roof of the car to keep from toppling over.

"Sit in the back." Granger grabbed his arm. "I'll treat you."

"With another magic potion?" Ron managed to say as she pushed him on to the backseat, then climbed in herself.

Harry gunned the engine and sped away before she managed to close the door behind her.

"We'll have to ditch the car again," he said. "And we need to get a doctor for him."

"I can treat him," Granger replied. She was already patting down Ron again, or so it felt.

"You're a physicist, not a physician," Harry retorted as he took a corner at high speed.

Ron laughed at that.

"He just needs his blood to be replenished. He's physically fine otherwise," she said.

He didn't feel fine. But he didn't hurt any more. He wasn't quite sure if that was a good or bad sign, though.

"Drink this!"

She was pushing something - a vial - into his face. He blinked. "A vial?"

"It's a Blood-Replenishing Potion," she said. "Drink it!"

"A magic potion?" That wasn't how you did blood transfusions.

"Drink it, or I'll knock you out and pour it down your throat myself!" She glared at him.

"Hey!" Harry yelled.

Well, something had saved him so far. He shook his head but took the vial. Or tried to - she didn't let it go.

"This is irreplaceable. I won't let you spill it by accident."

He was too tired to argue, even though he wanted to, and so he only moved his lips to the vial, then let her tip it and pour the liquid into his mouth.

It tasted foul, but he couldn't spit it out - she held his mouth shut until he swallowed, despite the tight turn Harry took that almost threw her into him.

He felt nauseous. He wanted to retch. He pushed her off him and coughed, sticking his tongue out. "What the hell!"

"Are you feeling better?"

He blinked. He was, actually.

"You're looking better. Less pale. The potion worked, then."

"There was a chance it wouldn't?" Harry asked.

"It's been a few years since it was brewed. Potions don't keep forever," she replied.

That wasn't very reassuring, in Ron's opinion. "How long will it last?" he asked. If this was a stimulant, then he needed to know when he would crash.

"It's a permanent effect," she told him. "It'll last until you get shot in the chest again."

He had to chuckle at that, no matter how misplaced the joke was. "That's a hell of a drug," he said.

"It's not a drug," she spat.

"I'm coming up to the parking garage," Harry announced. "We'll change cars there."

"Won't they see us on the cameras?" Granger asked.

"No," Harry replied, rather curtly.

"We know where the blind spots are," Ron explained.

"Ah. Moody's lessons?"

"Yes."

A few minutes later, they left the garage in another car. Ron was up front, this time. Not just because he was feeling much better, but also because the back seats were very cramped.

Granger, to his surprise, didn't complain. She wasn't even glaring at his back, he noticed with a quick check of the mirror in front.

Weird. But not nearly as weird as her 'potions'.

"We need to get you to a doctor," Harry said once they had left the neighbourhood.

"I feel fine," Ron told him.

"You were shot and you've twice imbibed unknown substances," Harry retorted. "We need to get you checked out at once."

Worded like that, Ron had to agree. "We can't use CI5's doctors, though," he pointed out. "They're compromised." He caught Harry grinning and closed his eyes. "Not the vet."

"Moody trusts him," his friend replied.

"Moody doesn't trust anyone," Ron retorted.

"But he'd let him treat his wounds," Harry pointed out.

Ron groaned and leaned back.

* * *

**Southwark, London, July 9th, 2005**

"Perfectly healthy," Ron announced as he left the office.

Granger, back in Harry's jeans and a shirt from Frankie's, with a baseball cap hiding her hair, looked at him as she stood up from the chair in the vet's kitchen. "I told you so."

"You're not a medical doctor," Harry replied, joining them.

"Neither is Mr Jones," she retorted. "He's a veterinarian."

"He actually is, or was, a surgeon," Ron explained. "He was in the Falklands War, though, and got so traumatised he couldn't work on humans any more, so he became a vet."

She made a point of looking at him, Ron noticed, so he added: "He got better. And he only had to examine me."

"Ah."

"Let's go!" Harry said. "I've paid him, and we have a few things to discuss."

Granger looked a little nervous at hearing that, Ron noticed.

* * *

**Richmond upon Thames, London, July 9th, 2005**

"Is this another safe house no one knows about?" Granger asked when they pulled up in front of a very average looking house. "Like the last one?" she added, as if her sarcastic tone hadn't made it clear what she was thinking.

"It's not a CI5 safe house," Harry said, scanning the street. "Clear."

Ron couldn't see any threats or anything out of the ordinary either. "Clear."

They got out of the car, and Ron pulled his seat forward so Granger could climb out from the back seat.

"You've got your own safe house?" she asked, sounding both relieved and appalled at once. "How much money did you sink into this?"

"It's not exactly ours," Ron told her as Harry unlocked the front door. They quickly ushered her inside.

"Sirius's old bachelor pad. I should have known." Granger said before the door closed behind her.

"How did you know that?" Harry asked. Ron saw that he was tense. "It was bought through a straw man decades ago."

She pointed at the huge painting of a scantily clad female biker - a comics character from an old magazine that Sirius had liked so much, he had commissioned the painting in his 'rebellious youth', Ron had been told - in the living room.

"You've investigated us," Harry said.

'Stalked' seemed more accurate, in Ron's opinion.

"In a manner of speaking," Granger replied, sitting down on the couch - rather gingerly, and after brushing some dust away from the cushions. She must have managed to collect herself during the drive here - she didn't seem nervous any more.

No, she was still nervous. Ron noticed her fingers digging into her thighs, and she tapped her foot a few times before crossing her legs a little too casually. She was putting up a cool front, but it _was _a front. "What did you give me?"

"I told you already: a magic potion."

"Magic isn't real," Harry snapped.

"Then explain why Ron's not dead, but in perfect health." She sniffed slightly.

Ron was tempted to cough and retch, but Harry was too tense for even a little joke.

"He was hit with a rubber bullet soaked with blood," Harry replied. "It knocked him down and made it look as if he'd received a fatal wound."

She stared at him, then shook her head. "Don't you think that Ron would have realised that there wasn't an actual wound?"

"Yeah, mate," Ron said. "It didn't feel even remotely like a rubber bullet." And they should know - Moody was fond of running exercises using such ammunition.

"Some agent in the blood that made you more susceptible to pain, probably some hallucinogenic component as well," Harry told him. "You thought you were shot and bleeding."

"And why would they want Ron to think that, instead of shooting him like Bones?" Granger asked, not quite rolling her eyes.

"It was meant for you, to make us think you had been killed and your body dragged off, but the shooter messed up when Ron charged in."

Granger scoffed at the idea. "Weren't you taught that you should never assume that the enemy made a mistake but rather that it was a trap instead?"

That was almost a direct quote from Moody, Ron realised.

"It's much less ridiculous than magic," Harry retorted.

"And Ron almost dying from blood loss was just my stimulants losing their effect, I suppose."

"Yes," Harry spat.

"And I fed Ron a stimulant that countered the agent, then another to take care of the side-effects? I somehow knew the truth? And was prepared for it? After launching a super-effective smoke grenade?"

"Yes," Harry said through clenched teeth. "We know you've been lying to us. You know why people are hunting you. If you have access to such technology, it would explain a lot."

"I told you: I don't know why people are hunting me."

Harry's theory was very far-fetched, Ron had to admit. Straight out of a cheap science fiction movie. He didn't think his friend truly believed what he was saying, either. But what Granger was claiming was straight out of a cheap fantasy movie. On the other hand, he had been shot - he was sure of that. Mostly. "Prove it," he said.

"What?" Harry and Granger said in unison.

"Prove that you can do magic." He grinned at her. "You want to do it, or you'd have agreed with Harry's theory."

She glared at him, then sighed. "Very well." She got up. "Please examine this," she said, holding out her ratty beaded bag.

Ron took it and opened it, peering inside. It looked like a normal if old handbag. Purse, lipstick, handkerchief, key ring, notebook, another notebook, pens… Harry snorted and took it from him, then upended it and let its contents drop on the floor before making a production out of turning it inside out.

Granger was annoyed - Ron could tell - but she nodded. "It's a normal bag, right?"

"Yes," Harry replied, fingering the fabric.

"Give it back!" She held out her hand. After a moment, Harry handed her the bag. "Thank you. You might want to take a few steps back. I'll need some space."

"For what?"

"For everything inside it," she said, flashing them a toothy smile as she restored her bag, then uppended it.

And far more things than could have fit the bag started to pour out of it. Rations. Camping supplies. Backpacks. PET bottles. Ron had to take a few hasty steps back to avoid getting buried under enough food and drink to feed an army.

"Bloody hell!"

He picked up an MRE that had ended up next to his foot. It felt solid and heavy in his hand. No inflatable decoy. It was real. He prodded the rolled up sleeping bag. That felt real as well. Looking at the mound of camping - survival - gear - he shook his head. There was no bloody way that all this stuff would have fit into her bag. Nor would she have been able to hide them under her clothes.

"How?" he heard Harry ask. "How did you do that?"

"Magic," Granger replied with a wide, smug grin. "I'm a witch."

Harry started to dig through the heap. "Magic doesn't exist."

"Oh, Merlin's beard!" He saw her roll her eyes. "Do you honestly believe that I managed to set this up in advance in your own secret bachelor pad?"

"'Merlin's beard'?" Ron ignored Harry's attempt to find a secret trapdoor in the floor and cocked his head, looking at Granger. Magic was real?

"A wizarding expletive," she explained.

"That makes it sound as if there are more of you… witches." How could that be possible? How could this have been kept secret?

Her expression turned hard. "No. I'm the only one here."

Here. "You're not from here, are you?" Ron asked. Other dimensions as well? That was… He didn't know what it was. Such things weren't real. But they were.

Her eyes widened a fraction, then she nodded. "No."

"And you want to return." Things were starting to make sense. As much sense as something like magic could. "You've been scamming the faculty to get money and supplies for magical experiments!"

"What?" She glared at him. "I'm not scamming anyone! I'm doing research in quantum physics! The research council is getting what it's paying for - I'm merely doing more than anyone knows."

"And you scammed the Grangers into thinking you're their lost daughter," Harry said, standing up.

Her eyes seemed to blaze as she rounded on Harry. "How dare you! I told them everything upon first meeting them! It's not my fault that I'm the wizarding counterpart of their daughter!"

Ron briefly wondered if she'd turn Harry into a newt. Then he wondered if she actually could do such a thing. If magic was real, what were its limits?

"And they believed you?" Harry sounded doubtful.

"They weren't as stubborn as you once they were faced with actual magic," Granger retorted.

Which meant, Ron realised, that they had been humouring her until that point. "Alright, magic exists," he said. "Or at least technology so advanced that it might as well be called magic," he added, mangling Arthur C. Clarke.

"Folding space or extra-dimensional storage wouldn't explain healing you from the brink of death," Granger replied.

Obviously, she had read the same books that he had. Ron grinned, despite the gruesome reminder of his near-death experience. "Nanites programmed to repair my body on a cellular level."

"And they instantly passed through your digestive system to reach your gunshot wound?" She scoffed. "I would have poured such a concoction directly on the wound. Provided constructing and directing such machines was feasible in the first place!"

He nodded, acknowledging the point. "Well, at least now we know why people want to kidnap you. They want to use you to do magic."

"That's impossible. No one knows I'm a witch. No one apart from the Grangers, and now you two." She shook her head rather emphatically.

This time, Harry scoffed. "You want us to believe that you never used magic where someone might have observed you?"

Ron could see her pressing her lips together. "What exactly can you do? You mentioned that the potions were irreplaceable."

"I lack the resources to brew more potions. Almost all of them require reagents that do not exist in this world," she replied.

Ah. Ron nodded. "So, you make magic items and potions which you then use, but you need exotic components which you can't get here."

"It's not quite like that," she said, holding out her hand. "Accio sewing kit!"

A small plastic case rose from where it was perched on top of another MRE and flew towards her hand. She had to make two attempts to catch it, though, Ron noticed. And she glared at Harry. "Don't you dare suggest searching me for wires or magnets!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I wasn't going to."

"Have you accepted that magic exists, then?" Granger couldn't win gracefully, it seemed.

Harry grunted something unintelligible, and Granger sniffed. "That was wandless magic. It's hard and not very effective."

"'Wandless'?"

"Normally, a witch - or a wizard - uses a wand to cast spells," Granger explained. "It allows for far quicker and far more powerful spells. Wands revolutionised spell-casting when the Romans invented them. All other methods of working magic were rendered obsolete, with the exception of a few fringe cases. A wand is a witch's most important possession. There are entire customs centred on wands and how to treat them."

"And you don't have a wand," Harry said, interrupting her lecture. "Or you'd have shown off with it."

The comment made her purse her lips - Harry must be right, Ron thought. Granger was the type to show off.

"I lost my wand before I ended up in this dimension," she admitted.

"Couldn't you make a new wand?" Ron asked.

"Theoretically, I could. I would just have to find a substitute for a dragon's heartstring, a fitting wood and then rediscover how to make wands - which would be like you making a Swiss Army knife after washing up on a deserted island."

"Your sarcasm needs some work," Ron replied. "But if wands are so important, how do you expect to return to your home without one?"

"Ritual magic and physics," she replied. "Casting a spell using a ritual takes hours, which makes it impractical for most purposes, but it has its uses."

Harry frowned. "And you know ritual magic, but not how to make a wand?"

Once more, she pursed her lips. "I studied rituals before I was… dimensionally misplaced."

Interesting. Ron didn't think Granger was the type to study useless things. Although getting stranded in a different world might change her priorities. And it seemed to have been an accident that brought her here. If she was telling the truth - they had seen no proof of her story. Other than the magic, of course.

"Leaving the intricacies of magic wands aside," Harry said, staring at her, "you're suddenly very open with your secrets. And you know a little too much about us for someone who just read an article about us in passing."

Granger sighed again and sat down on the couch. "I keep forgetting that you're police officers," she said in a low voice as she stuck her arm up to her shoulder into her bag and pulled out a small, plain box. She opened it carefully and took out a framed picture. "Don't break it."

Ron took it and gasped. It was him, Harry and Granger as teenagers, waving at the camera - the picture was animated - and hugging each other. But the Harry in the picture had a scar on his forehead. "You knew our counterparts," he said, looking into her eyes.

She nodded. "We were best friends." Her smile rather rapidly turned sad, though.

Ron wanted to ask for more information but turned the picture around in his hands instead. No sign of a screen - no pixels. Magic. He handed it to Harry.

"What's with the scar on his face?" Harry asked - Ron caught the slight hesitation before the pronoun, but Granger probably missed it. Unless their counterparts acted like them.

"It's from surviving the Killing Curse," she said. "Harry was the only one, ever, to survive that curse."

"Someone tried to kill him?" Harry asked.

"The Dark Lord Voldemort. He killed Harry's parents, then tried to kill him. It backfired."

Ron pressed his lips together, swallowing his first comment. This was no joking matter. "Backfired?"

"Voldemort was hit by the reflected curse and turned to dust - although he wasn't killed; he survived thanks to the Dark Arts." Granger frowned. "He couldn't be killed."

Harry scoffed. He was clenching his teeth, Ron noticed - his friend was remembering the day his parents had been murdered by Riddle.

Granger's lips formed a thin line as she met Harry's glare. "You weren't there. You're not _my_ Harry," she replied to his unspoken comment.

Ron cleared his throat. "So… that's why you researched us."

She turned to him. "Yes. I wanted to know…" She shrugged. "I shouldn't have. You're not them."

"No, we aren't," Harry said. "I _killed _the murderer of my parents." He touched his chest. His scar.

"The terrorist Tom Riddle. I've read the books." Granger scoffed. "Not Skeeter's, of course."

Harry scoffed as well - he loathed 'The Boy Hero'. "Smart of you."

"Did you have a Skeeter in your dimension as well?" Ron asked. Her reaction seemed to indicate that.

"Yes. She didn't write sensational books, though, but libellous articles." She sighed. "As one of Harry's friends, I was a target of hers. Harry had it worse, of course."

Ron was tempted to ask about his own counterpart but didn't. That would have been vain. "Why?"

She looked at him as if he had asked a stupid question. "He was one of the most famous wizards in Britain. The Boy-Who-Lived." Harry scoffed again, and she frowned. "You have to understand that Voldemort - whose birth name was Tom Riddle, actually - wasn't a mere terrorist working for various groups. He came close to toppling the government of Wizarding Britain with his followers. He was so feared that even a decade after his defeat at Harry's hands, people were afraid to speak his name."

Ron blinked, and even Harry, who had looked ready to blow his top at the idea that the murderer of his parents was a 'mere terrorist', seemed taken aback.

Granger sighed. "I'll have to start at the beginning, then. In Little Hangleton, in the 1920s. A witch named Merope Gaunt, who had fallen in love with Thomas Riddle, the son of the local squire…"

* * *

"...and that was how the First Wizarding War - that's a British term, actually; the rest of the world calls it the First British Civil War - ended in 1981."

For all her posturing, Granger must have loved telling the tale. Or rather, giving a lecture on the subject. Well, she was an academic, after all. Ron glanced at Harry. His friend had calmed down. Mostly. Hearing about how another Potter family had been murdered by a madman - although quite a bit older than the one Harry had shot - must have hurt. And that Sirius had been sent to prison without a trial… But there was something else. "First Wizarding War implies there was a second," Ron said.

And Granger's face seemed to turn to stone. "Yes." After a moment, she added: "It was still going on when I… ended up in this world."

"And you fought in it;" he went on, then frowned at the surprised glances from Granger and Harry. Granger had an excuse, but Harry should know better. He almost rolled his eyes. "You were best friends with the other Harry, who was prophesied to defeat this 'Voldemort'. That must have made you a priority target for those 'Death Eaters'. And since you are so… determined to return, even though, as you just said, there is a war going on, you didn't just flee and hide."

She nodded slowly. "That's correct. We - Harry, Ron and myself - were fighting. We were Britain's most wanted wizards and witch, actually." She must have noticed his expression since she added: "Voldemort was successful with his second attempt at a coup d'état. He took over the country and…" She trailed off. "We had to go underground."

And now she wasn't looking at him or Harry any more, but staring at the wall.

Ron didn't think this would be a good time to ask what happened in the Second Wizarding War. Even though he was really curious about his own counterpart. "Why did you decide on a 'quantum mirror cage'?" he asked instead. "A cage is designed to contain something, not open pathways, isn't it?"

"Misdirection," she replied. "I can't exactly advertise that I'm working on a dimensional portal. Even if I were to receive any funding for that, I would have been the laughing stock of the entire field."

"The popular magazines would have loved it, though," he said.

"They would have depicted me as crazy. They would have started rumours about alien abductions - and then claimed that I believed in such nonsense." She pursed her lips. "And I would have been pestered by fools who believe in such things."

Ron blinked. "You are a witch. You can do magic. Isn't it a little hypocritical to scorn those who believe in aliens?"

"Not at all. There is no evidence at all that aliens exist." She sniffed in apparent disdain.

"What about people who believe in magic without any evidence? Are they fools as well?"

"Yes."

"And if they manage to discover such evidence?"

She pressed her lips together and glared at him. She really didn't like having her own words turned back on her.

Harry chuckled, which earned him a glare as well. He didn't seem to be amused, though, Ron noticed.

"In any case, you now know why I need to continue my work, even if it puts me at some risk."

"'Some risk'? The people after you have already killed two of the most senior police officers in the country. If you go back to your laboratory, you might as well call them in advance and arrange a suitable time and place for a kidnapping," Harry snapped.

"Besides, you've got your notes and crucial work with you, don't you?" Ron said. When her eyes widened again - why was she so surprised that he had deduced that? - he pointed at the pile of camping supplies. "There aren't any notes in that mess. And I know you stuffed sheets of paper into your bag. Which means it holds more than just those."

"Probably enough to equip another lab," Harry added. "With enough food and other supplies to finish your work."

She clenched her teeth before answering: "Relying on my bag's contents will delay my progress. It's a measure of last resort. It is possible, in theory, but not very practical. I need my lab."

"That's a 'yes'," Ron replied with a grin. Then he grew serious. "You cannot continue your work at the faculty. Even if the kidnappers weren't already covering it, the police would take you into custody - for your own good."

"Or as a suspect," Harry pointed out. "Your story has a few inconsistencies, and unless you're willing to admit that you're being hunted because you're a witch, they won't accept your statements."

"No one knows that I'm a witch!" she insisted. "I never worked any magic where it could have been witnessed!"

"Well, either you messed up and were observed, or someone figured out that you're working on interdimensional travel," Ron said.

"That's impossible."

"Shouldn't that be 'inconceivable?" Ron grinned at her expression - she got the reference, and she didn't like the insinuation that she wasn't as smart as she thought she was.

"Help me put the supplies back into my bag," she said, still glaring.

Ron chuckled again and bent down to pick up an armful of MREs, but Harry left the room.

* * *

Ron found Harry in the kitchen, whipping up dinner. As expected.

"Finished watching the witch at work?" Harry asked. He sounded a little bitter. Ron hadn't expected that.

"We finished putting the camping supplies back into her bag," he told Harry. "She's now checking her notes." He leaned back against the counter, close to his friend. "She offered to let us eat her MREs, but I declined."

Harry didn't laugh. That wasn't a good sign. "I guess this is a dream come true for you," he said, shaking his head. "A witch fleeing a war in another dimension, trying to get home - like in your movies."

"I told you that my hobby would come in handy one day," Ron replied. That made Harry snort, at least. Although he hadn't really thought about what magic being real meant. And parallel worlds being real.

"She knows things she shouldn't know. She knows _us_," Harry said. "Some weird wizard versions of us." He turned to glare at Ron. "She might have slept with one of them. Or both."

That was entirely possible, of course. Best friends, fighting a guerilla war, as teenagers? All alone against the world? Yeah, that was a recipe for some tension-relieving shagging, if Ron had ever heard one. But he didn't think so. "She didn't look at us like she wanted to see us naked."

"She stalked us."

Ron didn't think you could call these exact circumstances stalking. But that wasn't the point. "That doesn't mean she wanted to shag one of us."

"Do you want to shag her?"

"What? No," Ron said. Granger wasn't his type. "Why are you so…" He trailed off. "...so moody?"

Harry scoffed at Ron. "Why do you think she was afraid of Yaxley? Because he was her enemy in her world. She recognised Crabbe as well. And she knows us. I bet she also knows all of Yaxley's friends. But she didn't tell us or warn us. If she had, perhaps Scrimgeour and Bones wouldn't have been killed."

Ron froze for a moment. He hadn't thought of that. Although… "She said she had no proof, but she all but accused Yaxley. Would we have believed her without proof?"

"She had proof of magic, though," Harry retorted. "She was carrying it around with her."

That was true. "I don't think she expected the murders," he said. And she had saved his life.

"She should have," Harry snapped, turning back to the pots and pans.

Ron shook his head. That wasn't fair. "Well, after Scrimgeour, so should have Bones." And they should've expected it as well.

* * *

"What's with Harry?" Granger asked as soon as Ron rejoined her in the living room. She was sitting on the floor, surrounded by stacks of paper - obviously, her bag held even more than he had expected. And had a way to keep its contents sorted.

He played dumb. "What do you mean?"

Granger narrowed her eyes. "Earlier, Harry all but stormed out of the room. It's obvious that he isn't taking this whole thing as well as you seem to be."

"It seems our counterparts are more similar to us than I thought, hm?" Ron replied.

"I don't know what you were thinking," she told him. "But I do know that you're being evasive now."

"Because my counterpart acted the same?" He cocked his head slightly.

"No, because it's obvious." She stood and crossed her arms. "We're isolated, being hunted and can't trust anyone. In this situation, we cannot afford for Harry to throw a tantrum."

"It seems that you don't know us as well as you think you do." Ron met her eyes. "Harry's not happy with you keeping secrets. He thinks that if you had told us the truth, Scrimgeour and Bones wouldn't have been killed."

She gasped but recovered her composure a moment later. "Did he expect me to just tell strangers about magic?"

"If you're getting attacked by counterparts of your enemies, yes," Ron said. "You knew Crabbe."

"What?" She shook her head. "That's not how it works. I knew his counterpart, yes. But my Crabbe was a bigoted pureblood willing to murder muggleborns with Malfoy and Voldemort."

"Malfoy?" Could it be…?

"Draco Malfoy. A despicable, cowardly bigot who thought people like me - muggleborns, wizards and witches born to non-magical parents - had no right to live. They called us 'mudbloods' and had death squads hunt us down. Magical Nazis in all but name!"

"Blond, arrogant, always mentioning his family's money and his father?" Ron asked.

"Yes. You've met his counterpart?"

"We went to school with Damien Malfoy. Bloody ponce." He shook his head. So Malfoy could have been even worse.

"But not with Crabbe or Goyle?"

"I never saw either until Crabbe tried to shoot us," Ron said.

"Oh. They were Malfoy's muscle. Almost inseparable."

"We'll have to look into a possible tie to Malfoy, then." At least that should cheer Harry up.

"I don't think that is the case," she told him.

"Why? Did you investigate him?"

"No," she said with a frown. "But this country is very different from Wizarding Britain."

"But Malfoy is still an arse and a racist." He snorted. "Some things are constant, it seems."

"That doesn't mean I could have anticipated Scrimgeour's murder. Or Bones's."

"We could have taken more precautions," he retorted.

"Really?" She raised her eyebrows. "I have some difficulty in believing that. You were trained by Alastor Moody's counterpart, weren't you? Constant vigilance? You probably did everything you could think of already."

"You know him?" That explained some of her comments.

"His counterpart was our Defence teacher for a year."

"Moody taught you self-defence?" That must have been a hell of a school.

"Defence against the Dark Arts," she corrected him. "Although it covered self-defence as well, though with a wand. And Duelling."

"Ah. Magic duels?"

"It's a sport. Not quite as removed from actual fighting as modern fencing, but a good duellist isn't necessarily a good fighter. Especially when facing multiple opponents." She grimaced and rubbed her shoulder. "They are generally very dangerous when facing a single opponent, though."

As she had probably found out the hard way. "And you were never into sports, hm?"

She pressed her lips together. "I focused on academics. And if you'd seen the wizarding idea of sports, you'd have done the same."

"Oh, I don't know. Duelling sounds fun." He grinned

She sniffed in response. "You sound like Ron."

Well, they had already established that.

"It's still not my fault that Scrimgeour and Bones were murdered. No one but you and my parents knows about magic. Telling you about magic wouldn't have changed anything."

Ron didn't think that it was as easy as that, but it was clear she had not considered that her being a witch might endanger others. So, at worst, she had been mistaken, not callous. He inclined his head and made a non-committal noise.

She frowned again - she was doing that a lot - and shook her head. "I'll set him straight."

"No." He reached out to grab her arm but settled on simply holding his hand out, stopping her without touching her. "He needs to calm down and think about all of this. Give him some space."

She didn't answer - and she was staring at something he couldn't see.

* * *

"_This is pointless! We should be ambushing Death Eaters!" Harry yelled, throwing the book he had been reading on the ground and leaving the tent._

"_Harry!" She jumped to her feet._

_Ron grabbed her arm. "Give him some space, Hermione!"_

"_But…"_

"_He just lost his godfather. He won't listen to your lecture about rituals to find Horcruxes. Let him calm down outside."_

"_But that's not safe!"_

"_We're in the middle of nowhere," he retorted. "He'll be fine."_

_He was right. No mind-controlled or duped police officer would find them here. But that didn't mean they were safe from every danger. "What if he…" She trailed off, not willing to say it out loud._

_She didn't have to. Ron understood. "He won't. You know him."_

_She did. But Harry was changing. They were all changing. Had changed. You couldn't fight a war and stay unaffected. You couldn't kill and remain the same person you were. She knew that very well._

_Sighing, she sat down again. "I just want to help him." Harry was trying to bottle his grief up. Or, worse, channel it into hatred._

"_I know." He stepped behind her, rubbing her shoulders. "We all do."_

"_But we're the only ones with him," she whispered. The rest of the Order cells had their own tasks and bases. Sirius had used the enchanted mirror to talk with Harry, but now… perhaps Remus would replace him. Not that you could replace him. "We'll avenge him."_

_He didn't answer, but she felt his hands tighten a little. _

"_By finding and destroying all of the Horcruxes," she added._

"_Yes."_

"_I'll fix dinner," she said. Harry usually did it, but… their pantry was overflowing. She would find some tins or frozen dinners she could use._

"_Ravioli?" His voice was light, teasing, and she blushed. That hadn't been her finest hour. Or meal. _

_His fingers found a knot in her shoulder, and she closed her eyes. Ron… She buried the thought before it could form. As she had done before._

_She couldn't. They couldn't. Harry needed them. More than ever. And none of them could afford such a… distraction._

_But once the war was over..._


	6. Chapter 6: The Friend

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Friend**

**Richmond upon Thames, London, July 9th, 2005**

"Dr Granger?" Ron wondered if she was having a flashback.

Granger recovered at once, though, and shook her head. "Sorry. Just a memory." She looked a little rueful.

"Ah." Once more, he was tempted to pry, but Granger didn't seem to be in the mood to share. Well, not if it concerned her past - he was sure that she was always ready to give a lecture.

She gave him a look, her expression a mixture of annoyance and fondness. "Yes, it was about your counterparts," she told him.

"Ah," he repeated himself. "I'm easy to read, hm?" he prompted her.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You're more subtle than him."

He nodded, acknowledging her rebuke. "Déformation professionnelle, I'm afraid."

She made a noise halfway between a scoff and a snort. "Well, I guess Ron could have grown more subtle with age as well."

This time he couldn't resist. He had to ask: "Did he die?"

"No," she said quickly. Then she took a deep breath. "He was alive when I was transported here. But we were in the middle of a battle, and…"

"And the odds weren't great," he finished for her.

After another of her sad looks, she nodded. "The odds weren't great from the very beginning, but it was a particularly tight spot."

That explained her fixation on returning at all costs. "And you feel guilty for leaving them."

The glare was back as she bared her teeth. "I didn't leave by choice."

"But you still feel guilty about it." It was plain to see. Obviously, she had never told her therapist about that event.

She clenched her teeth so hard, he could see her jaw muscles twitch, then turned away and grabbed a sheet of paper - at random, he was certain.

But he nodded and left the room.

Now both Harry and Granger were sulking and annoyed with him. It wasn't one of his better days, to be honest - even if you didn't count him getting shot and nearly killed.

* * *

"It's good," Granger commented after the first bite.

"Thank you," Harry replied - after a noticeable pause.

"Harry's a good cook," Ron said. Not as good as Mum, of course. But better than Ginny, which was - despite her claims of not caring about it and not wanting to be a housewife anyway - a sore point for Ron's sister.

"Not all of us want to live off takeaways," Harry replied. It almost sounded like their usual ribbing.

Ron shrugged. "Cooking for yourself is inefficient." He could always visit home, anyway, if he wanted to eat well.

"And you'd burn half your meals." Harry snorted.

"That happened once, and I was pissed," Ron retorted. "And you didn't exactly do anything to prevent it, either."

"I was drunk, and watching you was funny."

"So you claim," Ron shot back.

"My first attempt at cooking ended with a ruined pan," Granger said after a moment. "The instructions were incorrect."

Ron chuckled - he could imagine that: Granger, glaring at a smoking pan as if it were the pan's fault, cookbook in hand, wearing a little apron…

"You were at fault for picking the wrong instructions, then." Harry sounded a little too sharp for friendly ribbing.

"Nothing a spell couldn't fix," Granger retorted, in an equally not so friendly tone.

Ron cleared his throat. "We need to talk about what we're going to do now," he said. Before these two drove each other mad.

"We have to stay under the radar," Harry said at once. "If Yaxley is behind this, then we can't trust anyone in CI5."

"Colin would never betray you," Ron pointed out.

"He can be fooled. Easily," Harry replied. "And everyone knows that he likes me. I bet you a hundred pounds that Yaxley has him bugged already, in case we make contact."

"That's probably how they got Bones. Must have bugged her or her car," Ron agreed.

"She would have checked," Harry retorted.

"After Scrimgeour? Yes. But she might have missed something. Or Yaxley had this planned for some time, and was aware of her contingencies." Ron shrugged.

"It doesn't seem to have been a well-planned operation so far," Harry pointed out. "The attack on the safe house had too few people to succeed. But two days later, they had over half a dozen shooters in the park."

Ron nodded. "Rush job on the house. He didn't know how long we planned to stay and hit us on the first night with what he had available. Then he got reinforcements for the ambush at the park."

"It won't help him, though." Harry grinned. "Scrimgeour and Bones killed by a sniper? A shootout in a public park in the afternoon, in the middle of London? MI5 and Special Branch will be all over this. He can't keep this in house. And he didn't have enough time to cover all his tracks. He's going down."

"But he has to have known that. Why would he take such a risk?" Ron pointed out. "Killing Scrimgeour triggered the whole thing. After that, Bones wouldn't rest until she found the killer. But killing her made things worse."

"Yaxley's not the smartest bloke," Harry replied.

"But he's smart enough - more than smart enough - to realise that much. So, why start all this?" Ron shook his head. "And where did he get his reinforcements? You can't just hire mercenaries." This wasn't a movie. He snorted. "He's got a backer."

Harry slowly nodded. "Yes, that would fit. But it's still a huge risk to take."

"Perhaps he had no choice," Ron speculated. "If his backer has a hold over him and ordered him to procure Dr Granger, what are the odds Scrimgeour would have found out?" After the fact, most likely.

"So he decided to go for broke?" Harry sounded doubtful. "He could have run."

"And be hunted by CI5 - and by his backer as a loose end?"

"Good point," Harry conceded.

Ron noticed that Granger was staring at them both. She looked very impressed.

And he liked that, he realised.

"That is a convincing conclusion - but it depends on Yaxley being behind the murder of Scrimgeour and Bones," Granger said. "And there's no evidence to support that hypothesis."

"His counterpart was an enemy of yours, though, wasn't he?" Harry said with a frown. He didn't like to be wrong, Ron knew. Well, no one did.

"That doesn't mean, though, that your Yaxley is a criminal," she replied with a frown. "He could be a perfectly upstanding, if abrasive and annoying, police officer."

"That's true," Ron admitted, ignoring Harry's glance towards him, "but so far, the people you've met have been pretty similar to their counterparts in your world, haven't they?"

"Not identical. Not enough to condemn a man for it," she replied with a glance towards Harry.

Ron's friend scoffed. "Really? You trusted us because of them, didn't you? That's why you revealed your secret."

"I revealed my secret because it was the only way to save Ron!" she retorted.

"You called me Ron," Ron pointed out. She also did it when she had that nightmare, he recalled.

"A slip of the tongue," she said, then took a deep breath. "Yes, the similarities are striking, but there are differences."

"We're older than the people you knew," Ron said. "And we've had different experiences."

"Exactly!" She nodded, a faint smile on her face. "And your Riddle died in 1985. The one in my world survived. That's a huge difference."

Harry scoffed again. "Yaxley's old enough to have been turned before that. People suspected that there was a mole in CI5 who fed Riddle information that allowed him to evade the police."

"But if it was Riddle who turned him, then who would be able to call on him now?" Granger asked.

"Some of his supporters and fellow terrorists were never caught," Ron said.

"But would he have trusted anyone with such information?" she replied, shaking her head as she answered her own question.

"That's based on your knowledge of his counterpart, isn't it?" Harry asked with a hint of a smirk.

"Yes," she spat.

"And it fits our profiles of Riddle," Harry told her.

"Which means that it's unlikely that Yaxley is working with or for someone who was with Riddle." She sniffed.

"Unlikely doesn't mean impossible," Harry said. "And it certainly isn't Dawlish. The man's too stupid for this. That doesn't leave many others of the proper age and position."

"In any case, we have to assume there is a highly-placed traitor in CI5," Ron cut in. "Which means, as we said before, we cannot trust anyone. We have to stay on our own until the mole's found."

"Which will make you appear suspicious," Granger pointed out.

"And you as well," Harry retorted. "You were present at both assassinations."

"And if it's Yaxley," Ron added, "he might try to use this to get you."

"Britain's most wanted," Granger muttered, "once again."

Ron tried to cheer her up. "It won't be for long. Moody's going to find the mole sooner rather than later."

"Unless he's coming after you because he thinks you've turned traitor," she retorted.

"He wouldn't!" Harry replied, glaring at her. "He trusts us."

"Does he trust anyone?" Granger glared back at him.

"Didn't you tell us that we can't assume everyone's like their counterpart?"

"Please!" Ron raised his voice. "Arguing about that won't help our situation. We have to decide what we do now."

"How safe is this house?" Granger asked. "Can we stay here while this whole mess is sorted out?"

"No one but us and Sirius know about it," Harry replied.

"And can Sirius be trusted not to rush over here as soon as he hears about the whole thing?"

While Harry clenched his teeth and didn't answer, Ron made a note of another hint that people and their counterparts in Granger's world were very similar - she certainly knew Sirius's likely reaction well.

"I guess that means we'll have to leave," Granger said with a sigh.

"I'll send him a mail - through a secure account," Harry told them, standing up.

"Let's hope he'll listen," Ron heard Granger mutter as Harry left the room. He hoped Harry hadn't heard her.

"We really can't assume everything's the same," Granger told him as soon as the door closed behind Ron's friend.

"We can't trust people just because you trusted their counterparts," he replied, "but there's nothing wrong with being suspicious of people whose counterparts were your enemies."

She pressed her lips together but didn't contradict him. He took that as acknowledgment of his point.

* * *

Ron found Harry in the kitchen, doing the dishes. "Sirius should have bought a dishwasher," he commented.

Harry snorted. "It wasn't as if he actually cooked back in the seventies. Not that he's cooking anything nowadays, either."

Because Harry's godfather had hired a housekeeper as soon as he had inherited his family's fortune and ancestral home. It must be nice to be rich, Ron thought, then pushed the thought away. He was better than that. Money had been tight growing up, as one of seven kids with only Dad's salary, but now that every one of Ron's siblings was earning their own money, Mum and Dad could afford a lot. And Mum was a far better cook than Sirius's housekeeper, anyway.

Ron leaned against the counter next to him. "Granger gave me a list of all her enemies in her world." He should have asked about a list of her friends as well, but… you couldn't trust someone because of their counterpart's actions.

"Must be a huge number, what with her charming personality," Harry replied, not looking up from the pan he was scrubbing.

Ron rolled his eyes. "You weren't exactly acting like Prince Charming, either," he pointed out. "Of course, Ginny would kill you if you had been." His little sister had a stereotypical redhead's temper. Fortunately, she had chosen tennis instead of, say, kickboxing.

Harry snorted at that but still didn't look up.

"Is that why you're so… cranky? Are you missing Ginny?"

"I'm not 'cranky'," Harry replied, glaring at him. "I'm just not trying to get into Granger's pants."

"Please try to be a little more original," Ron told him. "And don't tell me that it's about her keeping secrets. You knew she wasn't telling us the truth before, but now that she's spilt her guts, you're still mad at her."

Harry glared at him, but Ron didn't flinch until his friend sighed. "Magic. Mind-controlling magic. Who knows what she can do? Or has done? It was different when we were guarding a boffin, but a witch? What if she thinks she knows best and makes us agree?"

"If she could do such a thing, or would do it, wouldn't she have done it already?"

"She might have," Harry retorted with a frown. "We can't tell what can be done with magic, and what can't. Most of our training is useless in the face of magic."

Ah. Ron nodded. That explained Harry's attitude - they couldn't trust their training as they had before. Not in the face of such a revelation.

"But there's more," Harry went on. "She knows our counterparts. She probably knows stuff we haven't even told each other. Don't tell me that you're alright with that!"

He wasn't. But she had saved his life. And Ron didn't think she meant them any harm. "If she knows too much, it isn't her fault. Blame our counterparts. Anyway, here's the list." He unfolded the list and held it up so Harry, whose hands were wet, could read it.

"Malfoy… all three of them, actually. Travers. Yaxley. Dolohov. All three Lestranges." Harry tensed, as Ron had known he would, but didn't comment. "Crabbe. Goyle. Crouch. Avery. Jugson. Carrow. Carrow. Rookwood. Pettigrew." He scoffed. "That's no surprise. Umbridge?" Harry blinked. "Isn't that the woman Arthur keeps complaining about?"

"Yes."

"Her counterpart is a magical terrorist?"

"Was," Ron told him. "The names with an asterisk are dead. And she wasn't a terrorist but an eager genocidal bureaucrat, according to Granger."

Harry whistled. "That's a lot of dead people."

Ron nodded. He glanced over his shoulder, then added: "And Granger was involved with a number of the deaths." Which was both worrying and reassuring. And he couldn't, yet, say which feeling was dominating. Or should.

"Did she tell you that?"

"No. But her reactions were telling," Ron told him. She had been 'lost in thought' a few times as well. "Anyway - it's a long list."

"And some of the names don't ring any bells," Harry pointed out. "Fenrir Greyback?"

Ron shrugged. "A werewolf, or so I was told."

"Werewolves. What's next, vampires?" Harry asked with a snort.

"There's a market for blood pops made with real blood in Granger's world," Ron replied with a wry grin.

Harry sighed as he shook his head. "This is weirder than one of your stupid movies."

"They're not stupid," Ron replied out of habit. "They just don't have the budget for their special effects. And it doesn't matter. We've got a list of suspects now."

"And no proof."

"That's what Granger kept saying," Ron said, then smirked when he saw his friend clench his teeth. "What did Sirius tell you?"

"He hasn't answered my mail, yet," Harry replied. "I told him not to do anything stupid, though."

Ron hoped that Sirius would listen - combat experience in the Guards didn't make you a police officer. And he had been a tank commander, not exactly SAS material. Though he had had some experience in Ulster…

"He'll listen," Harry said as if he had read Ron's thoughts.

Ron nodded. Sirius still blamed himself for the death of the Potters, after all. On the other hand, if he thought Harry was in danger, he'd rush in no matter what. "So…"

Harry held up a hand, and Ron heard his cell phone vibrate. "Message from Sirius," his friend said. He wiped his hands, then checked - and cursed. "They're looking for us. As suspects."

Damn.

Ron had expected that this would happen - the traitor would frame them to try to protect himself - but it was still a shock. What would Mum and Dad think? His brothers? Ginny, of course, would never believe it. But Percy? Bill? "Well, we didn't plan to show our faces in public anyway," he said. It wouldn't do to appear actually worried.

"Feh." Harry frowned.

"And we don't need to buy food - Granger has enough to last two lifetimes," Ron added.

"That's not food," Harry complained. "That stuff makes spam taste good in comparison."

"I like Mum's spam recipe," Ron said. Times had been lean in his childhood, and they had eaten spam quite a lot.

"Let's tell Granger."

They found her in the living room, where she was watching TV. Ron saw pictures of Scrimgeour and Bones on the screen as well as Granger's and swallowed his joke about mindless entertainment.

"They've been talking about the murders non-stop since I switched the telly on," Granger said. "And they speculate about whether I was kidnapped, killed or brainwashed into becoming a murderer."

"The BBC?" Ron couldn't imagine the news going that far.

"No, not the BBC," Granger admitted. "But the rest of the channels." She sniffed. "I expect them to mention your past at any moment," she said with a glance at Harry.

Harry muttered another curse in response.

"Sorry," she mumbled, "but we'll have to expect it and prepare accordingly."

"Prepare for what?" Harry asked.

"With so much attention from the media, everyone will recognise us," she replied. "We won't be able to set foot outside without a disguise."

"We don't have to go out," Ron pointed out. "We can stay here for months if need be."

"Are you suggesting that we should hide here until someone catches the traitor?" she asked with a frown.

"No," Ron said. Granger and Harry would drive each other crazy. "But we don't have to go out right now. We can wait until the next celebrity scandal breaks." Or until Yaxley was arrested.

"I need a dependable base for my experiments. And an inconspicuous source of power," she told them.

"You'll have to do without," Harry replied. "Suddenly using far more power than normal would betray our presence."

"I can't do research without power."

"You can't do research if you're dead, either."

Ron shook his head. "You can't do research as long as someone is willing to hire mercenaries and criminals to hunt you down. Until the traitor's backer is found, you're stuck."

Her expression told him that she loathed their situation - but it couldn't be helped.

"We can go through your list," Harry said. "It's not as if we have any better leads."

"Just because their counterparts…" Granger started.

Harry cut her off. "...yes, yes, we can't condemn anyone for what their counterpart did. But," he went on with a grin, "we can investigate them."

"While we're Britain's most wanted?" she retorted.

"Yes." Harry nodded. "I'm not going to hide and wait for someone to solve my problems for me."

Granger shook her head at that. "That's familiar," she commented with a rather sad smile as she stood. "I'm going to bed."

Ron wasn't sure if he should be glad or concerned about Harry glowering at her as she passed.

He sighed. "Let's go over the list and make some plans."

Harry agreed after a moment. "Too bad we don't know if we killed some of them already in the park."

Ron hadn't actually done any killing, but it was nice of Harry to include him. Probably.

"So… her Malfoy was best friends with Crabbe and Goyle?" Harry asked after looking at the list again.

"They way she described it, they were his minions," Ron corrected him.

"Hm. Our Malfoy would have loved minions to do his bidding. What are the chances that he hired some thugs? He couldn't rely on his dad all the time." Harry rubbed his chin. "And we know he had some shady contacts."

"It's quite a step to go from buying marijuana to hiring hitmen," Ron pointed out.

"Malfoy might have hired them as thugs, to beat up his 'rivals'," Harry replied. "Remember when he tried to send the rugby team after us?"

"Oh, yes!" Ron chuckled. Malfoy's dad must have spent a lot of money to smooth things over so his son wouldn't be expelled.

"Or perhaps he needed bodyguards to keep Parkinson away," Harry joked, then blinked. "Damn."

"What?" Ron asked.

"I just had a thought," Harry replied. "This was Sirius's bachelor pad in the seventies."

"Yes. And he bought it under a fake name."

"He did. But how many women did he invite over? And how many of them might remember the flat?"

Ron frowned. "How many of them would make the connection to us? You weren't even born when he started using it."

"No. But he was over the moon when he was made godfather," Harry said. "He would have told his girlfriends. And all it takes is for one woman to remember."

Ron sighed. "Who gets to tell Granger that we have to move again?"

"You. She's less likely to turn you into a newt," Harry replied with a grin.

Ron frowned, but his friend was probably correct.

* * *

"I should have thought of that. It's obvious in hindsight."

Granger took the news better than Ron had expected. And worse, in a way. "Don't blame yourself. What would your therapist say?"

"This is different. I should've known better," Granger replied. "I've been hunted before."

"By wizards."

She snorted as she slid out of bed. "Wizards who could easily mind-control police officers and order them to hunt us as well. Hiding out in muggle hotels didn't work out well for us. If the police hadn't tried to arrest us before the Death Eaters found out..."

He didn't look at her legs as she grabbed the jeans from Frankie's. Not overly long, at least. "How easy is magical mind control?" he asked, trying not to show how disturbing he found the subject.

"It depends on what method you use, but it's generally quite easy. Obliviation - erasing someone's memories - is very common. It's how the Statue of Secrecy is enforced. Then there's the False Memory Charm, which allows you to implant artificial memories in someone's mind. It's far harder to use - you have to take great care to construct memories if you want them to influence the target. But done right, you can give someone an entirely new personality or set of goals."

Ron was aghast. That sounded… like Total Recall. "Is that what your enemies were doing?"

She shook her head, then pulled her hair back and put it into a bushy ponytail. "No. They usually stuck to the Imperius Curse." Looking at him, she added: "It's basically an order you can't refuse and want to execute. Casting the spell on a human earns you a life sentence in Azkaban. That's a prison in the North Sea staffed by monsters. Most inmates lose their sanity within a few years."

He wanted to ask her why she was so determined to return to that. The way she'd worded it, that prison wasn't new. On the other hand, her family and friends were there. And her magic wand. Although… she had spoken as if she had personal experience with those spells. "Did you use them yourself?"

"What?" She turned to him, shirt in hand, teeth bared.

"Not the Imperius, the others, I mean," he was quick to explain.

"Oh." She sighed. "I considered it. Quite thoroughly. The False Memory Charm, that is. Obliviating enemies was pretty standard. And witnesses - wouldn't want to endanger the Statute of Secrecy." She scoffed.

She had mentioned that before. "Keeping magic a secret is of such importance?"

"It's pretty much the only thing all wizarding countries agree upon. Breaking it is the worst crime you could commit. Far worse than massacring a few dozen muggles," she added in a bitter tone.

He had the distinct impression that wasn't a hypothetical example. "Worse than using the Imperius Curse?"

She pulled her shoes on. "Yes."

"Does that mean you'll have to obliviate Harry and me?" he asked before he could stop himself.

She looked startled for a moment. "No. Your world has no magic. There's no Statute here." Frowning, she went on: "Of course, some of the bigots would still claim this was breaking the Statute of Secrecy. They invented bogus charges of 'stealing magic' to justify their murders."

"And you _want _to return there?"

"I have to. I left my friends."

Friends who might be - were, probably - dead by now. But he knew better than to point that out. Judging by her expression, she was already aware that she might be returning to avenge, rather than help, them.

"So, where are we going?" she asked, grabbing her bag. "Do you have another safe house prepared?"

He chuckled, ruefully. "I wish." Moody would tell them that they weren't vigilant enough after this mess was sorted out. "No, we'll visit a friend of mine," he said with a smile.

"A friend?"

He nodded. "A good friend. She won't betray us."

She had an odd expression, he noticed. "Who is she?"

"Luna. Luna Lovegood." She looked rather incredulous, so he added, slightly annoyed: "It's an old and perfectly fine name."

"No, no." She shook her head. "It's not that. Does her family live next to yours?"

Ron blinked, then groaned. "You knew her counterpart as well?"

"We went to the same school."

Ron shook his head. This was eerie. What else did she know? "Ah… were we involved?"

"What? Us? I mean, your counterpart and I?"

"No, I mean my counterpart and Luna's," he explained.

"Oh. No, not to my knowledge. And I've known Ron since he was eleven."

Good. So not everything was the same.

"Is she a cryptozoologist? Hunting Nessie?"

He laughed. "No, no. She's no cryptozoologist."

* * *

**Near Savernake Forest, Wiltshire, Britain, July 10th, 2005**

"Luna lives here?" Granger asked before Harry had even stopped the car. "It's a barn! And a broken-down one, at that!"

"It merely looks like a barn," Ron replied as he got out of the car.

"It smells like a barn, too," Granger remarked.

"Luna's very thorough," Ron said.

"Thorough?"

"Yes," Harry replied, still behind the wheel. "Even Moody would be impressed."

"That's not really reassuring…" Granger trailed off. "Wait…"

But Ron had already reached the big gate, pulling it open for Harry to drive the car inside before closing it behind them.

The inside looked as it should - full of the derelict remains of a failed farm, with barely enough space left free for a vehicle to park, the only light provided by their car.

"It is a barn. And Luna doesn't live here," Granger stated as she climbed out of the car.

"Right." Ron nodded, slightly disappointed that she had seen through the small deception already. "Moody was the clue, huh?"

"Unless you deliberately wanted to mislead me, it means that Luna's paranoid. Which means she'd never let you drive up to her real home," she replied, shaking her head as she looked around.

Then the entire barn was plunged into darkness as Harry switched the lights off. Granger didn't comment, though, not until Ron had pulled out his flashlight to show her the way to the side exit.

"Couldn't someone spot the light?" she asked as she made her way towards Ron.

"The barn doesn't let any light out," Ron told her. He had helped Luna fix it that way over one summer.

"Ah. And the side exit leads to a secret tunnel?"

Harry scoffed. "Don't be daft - that'd mean you'd have a direct lead to her home from here."

Ron couldn't see Granger's face, not without being obvious about it and shining his flashlight in her direction, but he was certain that she was pursing her lips at Harry's comment. "And traipsing through the countryside won't lead any pursuers to her?" she retorted in a cold tone.

"No. Not with the route we're taking," Ron told her as Harry handed him his set of night vision goggles. "We'll be moving through the underbrush for most of the distance."

"We've only got two sets, sorry," Harry said. He almost sounded sincere.

"Great. I missed stumbling through a dark forest so much," he heard her mutter.

"Just hold my hand, I'll guide you," Ron offered.

"No need. I've got my own."

"You do? Of course you do." Ron shook his head as she pulled out a set of night vision goggles - a Russian model, Ron recognised the type - from her bag.

Luna would love her. Probably.

* * *

Granger definitely wasn't at home in the woods. Even with night vision goggles, she had trouble navigating the forest. At least Ron assumed her repeated, whispered queries about whether or not they were lost indicated that she was lost. And she didn't have an easy time marching, either.

But they had made it to Luna's hideout anyway, if later than planned. It was still the middle of the night, though, and so Luna wouldn't be mad at them.

"That's her real fake barn?" Granger asked, staring past him at the back of a decrepit-looking wooden building. "Oh God, I'm more tired than I thought to be saying that."

"Yes," Ron told her with a grin.

She huffed. "So… do we go and knock?"

"In a way." Ron took a deep breath and stepped closer to the back of the barn, looking for the slightly loose plank. Luna tended to move it around… ah, there. He pulled it back a little and stuck his finger inside, moving it until he felt the cool metal of the fingerprint scanner.

A moment later, part of the wall swung open, revealing a narrow space with a hatch in the floor, barely big enough for one person to step inside - and needing to duck their heads if they weren't on the short side. He did so and opened the hatch, then pointed at the spiral staircase leading down. "Here we are."

He quickly descended the stairs until he reached the steel door at the bottom, where he smiled up at the camera. "Hi, Luna! It's me, Ron!"

The door didn't open.

After a few seconds, he heard her voice - digitally altered. "Password?"

"Swordfish."

The steel door started to swing open.

"Swordfish?" Granger asked behind him.

"A movie starring John Travolta," Ron explained.

"Ah."

It was also one of the movies he had watched with Luna when they had been dating, but she wouldn't know that. And he wouldn't tell her. It was none of her business.

He stepped through the airlock - at least Luna wasn't running her NBC protocol - and into the hallway - or entrance hall, as Luna called it. And there she was - dressed in one of her 'ironic' T-shirts and baggy jeans with ballet flats. Not one of her weirder looks, this time.

"Ron!" She hugged him. "I told you the shadow men behind the government would hunt you down one day! I told you!"

"It's not quite…" he tried to explain.

"Fortunately, I've been preparing for this eventuality! This bunker is shielded against all the ways they could use to track you! They won't get you!" He felt her nodding - her chin repeatedly dug into his shoulder. "And neither will they get Harry and…" She tensed in his arms. "Blessed Mother Goddess!"

He turned his head, with some difficulty, and noticed she was staring at Granger. "Ah, Luna, this is…"

"An alien! You brought an alien here!"

"I'm not an alien!" Granger protested at once.

"You're Hermione Granger. Kidnapped at the age of eleven. Found seven years later, with amnesia. Identified through DNA testing and reunited with her parents. Proceeded to complete her missing secondary schooling in record time despite her history, then went on to study quantum physics, becoming a researcher after earning her doctorate," Luna stated, without releasing Ron. "Claimed her research was purely theoretical, yet found herself the target of multiple kidnapping attempts by an unknown yet clearly powerful secret organisation." She sniffed. "It's obvious that you've assumed the identity of the real Hermione Granger who was conveniently killed years ago before your arrival on Earth in order to gain the resources needed to return to your home planet. But the secret global anti-alien forces have seen through your deceptions and are now trying to arrest you without revealing that aliens exist!"

Ron managed to turn his head far enough to see Granger. She was staring at Luna, speechless.

And then Harry laughed.

"That's ridiculous!" Granger snapped. "I'm not an alien!"

"Of course you'd say that!" Luna retorted. "But how else can you explain the countless inconsistencies in your life? If you aren't a member of an alien species whose technology is far in advance of our own, how would you have managed to research something for which people are willing to murder senior police officers? After missing seven years of your secondary education?" She finally released Ron and took a step towards Granger, pointing her right index finger at her. "You might have fooled the Grangers, and you might have fooled the government - although the government may have been on to you from the start, and just let you believe you succeeded in fooling them so they could reap the results of your research for their own secret weapon programs. But you haven't fooled me!"

"Wha…" Granger blinked. "That makes no sense!"

"On the contrary! It makes perfect sense!" Luna shook her head wildly. "But you've made a fatal mistake! You dared to attack my friends!"

Uh oh. Ron grimaced. Luna was what Mum called a gentle soul, and she was a lovely, if eccentric, girl, but if she thought someone was threatening her few, very few, friends… "Luna, she's not an alien."

"I know you have to say that."

"No, I mean, we know the truth. And she's not an alien. She's human. Although you're correct in that she isn't the original Hermione Granger." Ron stepped between Luna and Granger. Just in case his ex-girlfriend hadn't been joking about the anti-authoritarian thug counter-measures she wanted to install in the ceiling.

Luna blinked. "She's human, but she managed to fool a DNA test? She's a clone!" She clapped her hands together. "The government has been cloning promising people for their shadow research think tanks! I knew it!" She slid around Ron and peered at Granger. "How old are you? Historically, I mean. Biologically, you've obviously been subjected to an accelerated growth treatment."

"I'm twenty-six years old! I'm not a clone!" Granger insisted.

"Are you sure?" Harry cut in, still chuckling.

She glared at him, then at Ron, as if this was his fault. Well, he should have expected this, Ron guessed. "She's not a clone."

"I'm Hermione Granger, a witch from a parallel Earth," Granger spat. "I ended up here due to a magical accident, and I was misidentified as this world's Hermione Granger."

"A witch?" Luna frowned. "A magical accident?"

"Yes." Granger held her hand out towards a small tobacco box on the shelf behind Luna and snapped: "Accio box!"

A moment later, the box flew towards her outstretched hand, and, from hidden speakers, Luna's voice yelled: "Alert! Alert! Smoker intruder! Alert!" - loudly enough to hurt Ron's ears.

* * *

_She heard the loud, very loud, sound of a gong being rung and knew she had made a fatal mistake. She hadn't disabled all the alarms, and now the enemy knew that there were intruders on the premises._

"_We need to go!" Harry hissed, jumping to his feet._

_But they were so close. And Voldemort… he was supposed to be busy dealing with the diversionary attacks while they broke into the manor._

"_Come on!" Ron yelled, grabbing her shoulder. "We've failed! We need to leave!"_

_No, she had failed. All those Order members risking their lives, and she had let them down. Their chance to get the Horcrux, lost. She shook her head, forcing back tears, as she ran towards the wardline, casting a Disillusionment Charm almost without thinking. Fifty yards until they could apparate to safety._

_They cleared the gardens. Forty yards._

_Halfway through the open ground. Thirty yards._

_Twenty yards. Almost._

_The hedgerow in front of them blew up. She barely saw the Blasting Curse before she was thrown to the ground. She rolled over the lawn - her Shield Charm had held - as a cloud of dust started to settle and chunks of earth and roots rained down on her. Harry! Ron!_

_She looked around, pointing her wand in every direction, as she tried to find her friends. The cloud still concealed everyone and everything, but it would thin out on top first, and her Human-presence-revealing Charm would show.…_

_Half a dozen markers became visible between her and the wardline - and she couldn't yet tell who among them were Harry and Ron, and who would be Death Eaters._

_She - belatedly - dashed towards the wardline. At an angle, away from the Death Eaters. If she could get out and flank them..._

_She saw a flash right in front of her, then she was flying through the air - another Blasting Curse, she realised, right before everything went dark._


	7. Chapter 7: The Old Flame

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 7: The Old Flame**

**Near Savernake Forest, Wiltshire, Britain, July 10th, 2005**

Granger was blinking rapidly. Flashback, Ron realised - he was starting to recognise the signs. "Luna, turn it off!" he said - a little more sharply than he intended.

"What?"

"Turn it off!" he repeated himself, a little more loudly. Granger was pressing her hands on her ears, and Ron wished he had some ear protection.

Luna left the hallway, and, a moment later, the shouting stopped. She returned and asked: "What did you say?"

"I wanted you to turn off the alarm," Ron said for the third time.

"Ah."

Granger was still breathing heavily, but she seemed to recover as Ron watched. "Merlin's beard! What was that?" she spat, glaring at Luna.

"My intruder alarm, of course. That is, my back-up intruder alarm."

"You linked an alarm to a tobacco box on a shelf?" Granger sounded incredulous. Again.

"Of course! Everyone knows that members and minions of the shadow government are often heavy smokers - not only are they stressed from trying to oppress the masses and keep their machinations secret, they can also camouflage themselves in clouds of smoke, you know! And members of the shadow government are corrupt and, therefore, greedy, so they wouldn't be able to resist a genuine eighteenth-century vintage tobacco box! And, finally, minions of the shadow government are trained to search for your most private secrets, so they would look through the box for hidden documents such as your diary!" Luna beamed at Granger. "It's effective on three levels! And, as you've proven, it works on dimension-travelling witches, too! If you're actually a witch."

"I am a witch," Granger said through clenched teeth. "You just saw me levitate a tobacco box with magic!"

"That could've been a directed beam of gravity-reversing energy. Or a psionic burst. A Timelord certainly would be able to fake magic thanks to their hyper-advanced technology," Luna retorted.

"I'm not a Timelord. And Dr Who is a fictional TV series," Granger replied.

"Ah, that's what they want you to think! It's actually the perfect cover - any time the aliens make a mistake, the government can claim it's just part of a new episode of Dr Who. That's why they restarted the series, you know - they tried to save money in the 80s and 90s, but when the Cold War ended, the budget of the secret service was cut, and that also reduced the budget for covering up alien activities, so they had to restart the series."

This time, Ron was sure that Granger wasn't experiencing a flashback - she was just left speechless and blinking by Luna's theories. Not unlike Percy that time Luna had tried to interrogate him after he had started working for the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. That had been an amusing family dinner.

"But…" Granger shook her head. "I told you that I'm not an alien!"

"Even if you are telling the truth, that doesn't mean that there aren't any aliens." Luna sniffed. "As a scientist, you should be aware of that!"

"What?"

Uh oh. Granger was getting mad. Ron cleared his throat. "Anyway - as you know, we're being hunted by the police. Can we hide here until the real murderer has been found?"

"Of course!" Luna beamed at him. "This is a refuge for any innocent victim of the government!" She frowned and peered at Granger. "You are innocent, aren't you?"

"Of course I am!"

"She was actually fighting a fascist wizard government in her home dimension when she was transported here in a magical accident," Ron added.

"What? Oh, Mother Goddess! Is that true?" Luna quickly closed with Granger and grabbed her hands. "You're a refugee from an oppressive, fascist government?"

Granger blinked, but, apparently, her desire to lecture won out over her indignation. "In a way. The politics in Wizarding Britain do not align perfectly with the politics of this world - or the muggle parts of my home. That means the magic-less parts. But the government was quite bigoted towards those who weren't born to wizards and witches, favouring the so-called purebloods even before the Dark Lord took over. He didn't take over openly, though. Instead, he mind-controlled the Minister and had his followers and sympathisers take control of the Ministry - the wizarding government - to persecute the muggleborns like me. As a minority and relative newcomers to Wizarding Britain, we were the perfect scapegoats. So, I don't think it's entirely incorrect to call his movement fascist, although it's not entirely correct either."

"A government controlled from the shadows using mind control! Persecuting minorities to distract the mindless population from their own situation! Did you have a voice of freedom spreading the truth for those who would listen, too?"

"Well… actually, yes. There was a pirate wireless station, and The Quibbler," Granger replied. She looked wary now - or again.

"Oh, I knew it!" And Luna lunged, hugging Granger. Hard. "A sister-in-arms! A transdimensional comrade! Be welcome in my abode!"

Ron couldn't tell if Granger's open mouth was due to shock or lack of air - Luna was stronger than her waif-like appearance suggested, and she was as passionate when hugging as she was in everything else that she did.

But what was important was that she had welcomed them. They'd be safe here.

* * *

"...and an entire world - the Wizarding World - is hidden from the general, non-magic population? Thanks to magical mind control?" Luna shook her head. "Could this world have such a hidden world as well? Full of witches, wizards and dragons?"

"There isn't. I checked thoroughly," Granger said.

"Too bad. But in your world, no one knows about this 'Statute of Secrecy'?" Luna leaned forward, licking her lips, almost pushing the table back as she did so.

"Ah… close family members of muggleborn wizards and witches are allowed to know about magic." Granger looked taken aback by Luna's enthusiasm. Ron could understand the feeling, of course - Luna could be scary when she got excited. Well, excited in the wrong way.

"Oh. And how do the wizards keep them from spilling the secret?"

"Well, it's illegal, for one thing. And who would believe them if they claimed magic existed?"

Luna would, of course, Ron thought.

"No implanted magical compulsions to keep quiet? Constant surveillance of everyone in the know? No threats to their loved ones? No examples made of random passers-by?" Luna sounded almost disappointed.

"Nothing like that happened before I left." Granger's face turned into a scowl. "But with Voldemort in charge, I could see them going after the family members of muggleborns if only to prevent the birth of more muggleborns."

"Oh!" Luna gasped. "Your parents are in danger?"

Granger winced but shook her head. "They were already in danger for being my parents. I was one of Harry's - my Harry's - best friends. Harry, Ron and I were the country's Undesirables Numbers One, Two and Three. So we took precautions when Voldemort regained a body."

Luna almost looked envious, Ron noticed. "You were public enemy number three?"

"Two, actually. I was deemed the greater danger than Ron."

"Oh! Because you were a witch and challenged their oppressive patriarchy?"

"What? No. It was because I'm a muggleborn witch while Ron's a pureblood wizard. I didn't deserve magic according to their ideology, so me being better at it than anyone else at school meant I challenged their stupid prejudices in ways Ron couldn't."

And Ron bet that Granger didn't exactly hide her talents, either. Quite the contrary.

"That doesn't make much sense," Luna replied, pouting.

"Of course it doesn't! The Death Eaters and their supporters are small-minded, ignorant bigots," Granger spat.

"Like our government!" Luna nodded rapidly.

"I wouldn't go that far," Granger replied.

"Of course you wouldn't. But you haven't grown up here. As a visitor, and from an openly fascist dictatorship, you would have missed the secret cabal ruling the country." Luna frowned at Ron and Harry, although Ron's friend didn't notice - or acted as if he didn't - since he was reading Luna's latest 'Underground Newsletter'. "Even some people who grew up in Britain and, as trained police officers, should really see through such cover-ups, won't accept the truth."

"Ah…" Granger looked - not for the first time - lost.

Ron shrugged. "As police officers, we need evidence before we act."

"Hard evidence," Harry added.

Luna huffed. "And that's why you're now being hunted by the forces of the shadow government! If you had arrested them beforehand, they wouldn't be able to do this now!"

It was an old argument, but after Bones and Scrimgeour's deaths, it stung a lot more. "We have a suspect, at least," Ron said. "Corban Yaxley. He's…"

"...a high-ranking member of the CI5. Your own department!" Luna frowned at him. "How did he manage to fool you?"

"He probably didn't do anything criminal or even suspicious for a long time," Granger cut in. "That's what his counterpart in my world did."

"Oh!" Luna's head instantly turned to stare at Granger. "The similarities are so significant, you can use knowledge of one person to judge their counterpart?"

"Not exactly," Granger was quick to reply. "Our worlds differ greatly. At best, it provides hints or suspicions for further investigation."

"Oh! And you encountered Yaxley?"

Granger pressed her lips together before answering. "Yes."

To Ron's relief, Luna didn't ignore the hint and didn't pry. Instead, she said: "Oh! Did you meet my counterpart as well?"

"Yes." After a moment, she added: "We went to school together. She's a witch."

"Oh! Tell me about her! Is she fighting the fascists as well?"

"Yes, although she does it by helping her father publish his underground newspaper, The Quibbler, to oppose the enemy propaganda," Granger explained.

Luna clapped her hands together and squeed. "Just like me! Were we - I mean, your Luna and you - friends?"

"Yes," Granger answered. She didn't seem to be lying, Ron noticed. "Very good friends," Granger added.

"Oh! Were we involved? With each other, I mean?"

"What? No. No." Granger shook her head. "But we were part of the, well, the resistance movement. Part of the core - of the new generation, at least." She had a smile on her face, but it looked rather sad. Ron almost reached out to pat her hand, but Luna was already moving to hug her.

"I'll replace my counterpart as your friend until you can return to your world!"

Well, Ron hadn't expected that. But, in hindsight, he should have.

* * *

"And here're the guest quarters!" Luna announced half an hour later, after she had finally picked up on Ron and Harry's hints that they hadn't slept for nearly twenty-four hours. She was a lovely woman, but she sometimes lost sight of the fact that not everyone shared her sleep cycle."They're not the most luxurious, but they're the safest rooms in Britain!" She proudly spread her arms as she turned around and waved at the bunk beds lining the walls.

"Thank you," Granger said, already eyeing the closest bed.

"Ah… you don't need a special diet, and you aren't allergic to our food, are you?"

"I'll be fine," Granger told her, sitting down on the bed to remove her shoes. "Thank you," she said again with a tired smile.

"She eats MREs to save time," Harry added with a smirk.

"Really? Is that a parallel development or did wizards and witches copy them? And why are you doing that? Is magic unable to make food?"

"I stocked up here," Granger explained, "in case I had to hide for a length of time without being able to resupply."

Luna beamed at her. "Great minds think alike! I've got my own stock, so you'll be able to enjoy familiar meals here!"

Granger managed to keep smiling, but Ron spotted her fingers slip and freeze as she was undoing her shoelaces. He smirked and, for a moment, considered letting Luna feed Granger nothing but rations. He decided against it, though - Granger was prickly on a good day; he didn't want to imagine how insufferable she might be if she were forced to eat rations for a week. Well, it certainly would be a sight to see. From afar. So he cleared his throat and spoke up: "I think we should save the rations for emergencies."

"But isn't this an emergency?" Luna replied, looking puzzled. "_The _emergency, actually - the government is, finally, hunting you!" She shook her head. "And even though I took care not to be predictable, suddenly increasing the amount of food I need would raise a flag which the government's minions could hardly miss. No, we should stick to rations for safety!"

Ron winced. It was a good argument - at least Moody would think so. And since Moody might be assigned to tracking them, they could hardly argue against such a precaution. No matter how slim the chance that Luna was actually under government surveillance. So he nodded. "Good thinking, Luna."

She smiled widely at him, which almost made it worth eating MREs for a few days.

Harry and Granger glared at him, though, as soon as Luna had left - as if this were Ron's fault. "So, ah… goodnight."

Granger didn't bother answering - she just slipped under her sheets and turned away from him. And whatever Harry grumbled wasn't a wish for a restful night.

* * *

"You and Luna were involved with each other, weren't you?"

Granger's question took Ron by surprise. He glanced at her bunk; she was still under the sheets, but she was looking at him. "Good morning," he said, smiling - at the impressive bedhead she was sporting, with half her bushy mane plastered to one side of her head and the other half trying its best to point in all directions at once.

She narrowed her eyes. "It's almost noon."

He shrugged. "Almost means it's technically still morning." Harry was already taking a shower, and Luna was still asleep.

She scoffed. "So, were you and her a couple? You asked if my Ron was involved with her counterpart."

He had, hadn't he? Ron nodded. "We parted amicably."

"So I gathered," she replied, in a rather wry tone.

He sat up. "I take it her counterpart is different." Granger had looked a little too shocked to have dealt with Luna before.

She pursed her lips. "There are some parallels. But my… her counterpart wasn't quite so fixated on conspiracies. That was mainly her father, although she believed his theories without question. No, she and her father focused on Magizoology - they were usually hunting for mythical, and perhaps fictional, magical creatures. Until the war started, at least."

"Ah." He nodded and waited.

"Your past won't be a problem, will it?" she asked.

"We parted amicably," he repeated himself, wondering why she was asking. "You've seen her reaction, haven't you?"

That made her wince. "She's a little more enthusiastic than I expected."

Ron laughed. "Well, you're pretty much the perfect guest for her. You validate all her beliefs. If a witch from a parallel world can be hiding out in our own, nothing is impossible. It's probably the happiest day of her life."

"Is that a good thing?" she asked with a glance at the door.

"Whoever is hunting you has corrupted part of CI5 and sent about a dozen thugs to attack you in broad daylight. Whether Luna's correct or not about a government conspiracy - I don't think she is - it's certainly better to be cautious," Ron pointed out.

She nodded, although it looked like she was doing it despite herself.

"Was my counterpart in a relationship?" he asked before he could reconsider.

"He dated Lavender Brown for a few months, in our fifth year." She wasn't looking at Ron, he noticed.

"You were a couple, weren't you?"

Her wide-eyed expression as she gaped at him proved that he had guessed correctly.

Swell.

She must have realised that he knew since she sighed. "We were a couple, yes. We shouldn't have become a couple, of course. Not in the middle of a war. Not with just the three of us in our cell. But…" She slowly shook her head.

"You were teenagers and fighting a war," Ron finished for her.

That earned him a frown. "Yes," she said, sounding as if she really didn't like to admit he was correct. "It's a completely understandable reaction to the circumstances, of course. Almost a textbook case."

"You've studied psychology?"

"It's a figure of speech," she replied.

He nodded. This was a delicate subject. Touchy, too. 'So you've seen my body naked' probably wouldn't go over well.

"Ask," she snapped. "I know you want to."

"Ask what?" He tried to play dumb.

She rolled her eyes. "You really think I'll believe you don't have a clue? After your Sherlock Holmes act before?"

"Touché." He shrugged. "Although in my defence, it usually works on people who don't know me."

More eye-rolling followed. Well, you couldn't win them all.

"So… what's my counterpart like?" He tried to sound casual, almost whimsical. Just idle curiosity, nothing more.

"He was barely eighteen last time I saw him," she said. "He'll have changed in the meantime." Or died, but Ron wouldn't mention that. Even though both of them were aware of the possibility. "So I can only tell you what he was like as a teenager."

"Yes." That was obvious.

She closed her eyes for a moment. "He was brave. Above all, he was brave. Even as an eleven-year-old, he was braver than most adults. He was always willing to risk his life for his friends and family. Or acquaintances, in some cases," she added with a sad smile.

Ron was certain that Granger had been among the latter - he knew that expression. And brave? Well, no one had called him a coward. No one but Malfoy, and the git didn't count.

She took a deep breath. "He wasn't perfect, of course. He often didn't think before he said something - or did something. He felt overshadowed by Harry. Probably by me as well. Certainly by his older brothers."

Ron struggled not to wince. That sounded familiar. Well, until he had helped bring Pettigrew to justice. And who wouldn't feel overshadowed by Harry?

"Stubborn to a fault, and sometimes too proud to admit a mistake," she continued to mention his - and the other Ron's - flaws. "But he was kind, and funny, sometimes very insightful and perceptive. And you wouldn't find a better friend in all of Britain."

"Ah." That was quite the list. "Well, he sounds like a great guy," he said, using a light tone.

"Yes," she agreed with a smile.

So Granger was definitely in love with her Ron - Ron knew that kind of smile as well. Even though he might not have seen it as often as he wished. Or appreciated it. "No wonder you want to return at once," he said, trying to sound optimistic and supportive.

She frowned at him. "I'm well aware that the odds of Ron and Harry being alive aren't good. And even if they are alive, the chance that Ron didn't find someone else is very slim."

Now that sounded a little… He frowned. "They think you're dead."

Another flinch. "The circumstances of my leaving would readily lend themselves to such an assumption."

Which meant Ron was right. But that was another subject he didn't want to touch. Certainly not right now.

Fortunately, Harry entered their room just then, having finished his shower. Ron wasn't about to discuss his counterpart's love life with Granger in Harry's presence, and he would bet half his salary that Granger didn't want to either.

Even though Ron really wanted to talk about this.

* * *

Half the dining table in Luna's living room was covered with newspapers when Ron entered her living room. "Hi, Luna." She was wearing a kimono and fuzzy rabbit slippers today. He couldn't tell if she was wearing anything underneath.

"Hi, Ron," she replied without looking up from The Times. "Your ration is the one in the middle."

Right, rations. He had almost forgotten about that. "Are those today's newspapers?"

"Certainly not! That would require either a subscription or regular purchases!"

"Ah." He should have remembered that.

"But the news will soon start on the telly," she went on, apparently munching on a ration's main course herself.

He looked at the three screens mounted on the walls in the room. The BBC, CNN and… something in Chinese. "Did you learn Chinese?" he asked.

"No."

He waited a moment, but she didn't elaborate. Well, time to tackle the MRE. He checked the label: Chicken w/ Thai Sauce.

"Your favourite," Luna said. "Well, among the MRE menus available." She was smiling at him in that sweet way of hers.

He smiled in return. "Thanks." He didn't think the meal would be even close to a good Thai takeaway, but it was the thought that counted.

And he would rather eat a tin of bacon dating back to the Battle of Britain than complain and make Luna feel bad.

Harry arrived a minute later, mumbling a greeting as he craned his neck to look at the newspapers spread out on the table.

"Yours is the beef steak," Luna declared before Harry could take a seat.

"Ah, thanks," Harry said after a glance at Ron. Fortunately, he didn't try to make an issue out of it.

"Where's Hermione?"

"Trying to fix her hair," Harry said. "I think - she was the last in the bathroom."

"By choice," Ron quickly said when he saw that Luna was starting to frown. "And she's not trying to fix her hair," he added with a frown at Harry. Even her hair wouldn't be that difficult to pull into a ponytail.

"I like her hair. It's wild. Untamed," Luna said.

"What's untamed?"

Granger had arrived. And she had her hair in a ponytail.

"We were discussing your hair," Luna blithely told her.

"What?" Granger was narrowing her eyes.

"Harry was speculating that you were 'trying to fix your hair'," Ron said. "I told him you weren't."

"Yes. And I said I liked your hair." Luna nodded.

Granger snorted but smiled at her. "Thanks, but I know it's a mess."

"Like nature."

Ron didn't think Granger liked that comparison. But the woman - the witch - sat down at the table and grabbed her ration. "Roast beef?"

"I thought it would be the closest to a taste of home," Luna explained. "The most English of the choices we've got available."

Granger's smile slipped a little, but she didn't show any other reaction and even sounded sincere when she thanked Luna. "Thank you."

"Enjoy your meal!"

"Thank you."

It wasn't that bad, actually - at least Ron's meal wasn't. Not good either, though. But Luna meant well - even Granger knew it. Of course, she had known Luna's counterpart.

And Granger ate her meal without any complaint. Ron couldn't spot even a hint of distaste. Either she was even more stubborn than he had thought or her taste buds were not normal. Which, Ron realised, could be the case since she was a witch.

Before he could ask - and potentially embarrass himself, or her - though, the telly finally switched to the news, and Ron winced as footage of Clissold Park appeared.

* * *

"_...and there is still no news about the fate of Dr Hermione Granger, who was last seen in the company of the two suspects. Dr Granger was kidnapped in 1991 at the age of eleven in one of the most famous criminal cases of recent history. After her escape in 1998, she led a quiet life and studied quantum physics before pursuing a career in research. Speculation that the recent kidnapping attempts were related to her past hasn't been confirmed by the authorities yet, although many critics of the police point out that at the time of her original kidnapping, rumours claimed that her kidnappers, who were never identified, enjoyed the protection of senior government officials."_

Ron glanced at Granger. She didn't show any reaction. Of course, she hadn't actually been kidnapped for seven years, but still…

"_Harry Potter, one of the two missing police officers suspected of being involved with the shocking murder of two senior police officers, is himself famous as a result of an incident in which he shot a terrorist to death at the age of five. While his age - he is one year younger than Dr Granger - means it's unlikely that he was involved in her first kidnapping..."_

Harry, though, had just snapped the plastic spoon that had been in his MRE. Ron reached over and clasped his friend's shoulder.

"They don't mention that said terrorist killed your parents?" Granger blurted out. "Or that he was trying to kill you? Who wrote that, Skeeter? This isn't a neutral, objective report!"

Ron could feel Harry grow even tenser and winced.

"The media are controlled by the government," Luna added. "This is just further proof of that!"

"It's probably just Yaxley feeding them rumours and slander," Ron said. "It'll be corrected soon enough."

"Yes!" Luna nodded so quickly, her head bobbed up and down. "When we expose the entire conspiracy!"

Ron nodded in agreement - it was clear that there was a conspiracy, even though he didn't think it involved the government.

The rest of the news report was more speculation - and insinuations about Harry and Ron's character and suspected motives, dragging up a few incidents from their past and twisting them out of proportion. They hadn't been _that _reckless, and, anyway, Smith had had it coming. At least the news stated that the shooting in Clissold Park wasn't related to the recent arrests of several individuals believed to have been planning a number of bomb attacks on the London public transport system.

"Now this feels like home," Granger commented with a sneer when the news switched to foreign events. "Biased media and incompetent authorities."

"And a few brave souls willing to challenge the system!" Luna announced, raising her fist, before Harry or Ron could say anything. "But we could do with a few more allies, I think. Who else was your friend in the other world, Hermione? We could recruit them!"

Granger froze. "You can't trust someone just because their counterpart was a friend of mine," she said after a moment.

"Why not? So far, it's proven to be correct, hasn't it? Ron, Harry, me…" Luna replied, ticking off a finger with each name.

"That's not enough data to trust it will hold true. There are fundamental differences between the two worlds, even discounting magic," Granger said. "For example, Tom Riddle was born almost twenty years earlier in my world than in yours."

Ron blinked. "A seventy-year-old wizard terrorised Britain?"

"Yes." Granger looked at him. "Of course, he had made himself a new body, a monstrous thing that looked as if it was part snake, but even if he hadn't done that, he wouldn't have been hampered by his age. Not at all." She looked like she was about to tell them more, but stopped.

Ron leaned forward a little. "Do wizards age more slowly?" Like elves, perhaps?

She hesitated a moment. "They remain active for longer. And the average life expectancy is about twenty to thirty years longer. Provided you don't get killed." She looked grim. "Two wars significantly lowered Wizarding Britain's life expectancy."

That was a chilling thought. Ron tried to imagine just how many deaths it'd take to do that to Britain.

Luna spoke up again. "Well, a list of your friends back home will still be useful! We can investigate them to check whether they can be trusted!"

Granger didn't look like she shared Luna's optimism. "That will be difficult while we're hiding from whoever is after me."

"Ron and Harry will manage," Luna told her, then smiled at Ron. "You will, won't you?"

He returned her smile. "We'll do our best."

"Many of your friends were killed, weren't they?" Harry spoke up, addressing Granger in a soft voice.

Ron clenched his teeth - he should have realised that - and Luna gasped as Granger pressed her lips together. "A number of my friends and acquaintances were killed in the second war, yes."

And her two best friends had been fighting a desperate battle when she had been transported to this world, Ron reminded himself.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't think about how painful this might be for you!" Luna blurted out - and went to hug Granger.

In different circumstances, watching Granger awkwardly trying to console an apologising Luna would have been amusing. But not now. Ron cleared his throat. "Shall we finish our meals before they grow cold?"

It was a weak excuse, but it persuaded Luna to let go of Granger and return to her seat, and for the next few minutes, no one spoke as everyone finished their meals.

"We still need to decide on a course of action and make plans," Harry said once everyone but Luna, who had already finished her sweet, was nibbling on what passed for pudding in the rations.

"Investigating Malfoy?" Ron asked.

"Without any evidence?" Granger countered.

"It's better than doing nothing," Harry, predictably, argued.

"Yes!" Luna chimed in. "And even if the dark secrets of the Malfoys turn out to not be related to the government conspiracy, we'll still have removed a corrupt and nasty man who would otherwise be a potential member of the shadow government!"

"And it's not as if the Malfoys haven't got it coming," Harry added.

"Settling accounts?" Granger frowned.

"We wouldn't frame them," Ron said. "But I'm certain that they have some skeletons in their closet."

"Why didn't you investigate him before, then?" Granger crossed her arms.

"Bones forbade it," Ron told her.

"And you obeyed her?" She sounded doubtful.

"It's one thing to solve a case by disobeying orders," Ron said, "but another to go fishing, so to speak." Bones had made it adamantly clear that she didn't tolerate those kinds of shenanigans.

"Ah."

"But if we can - correctly - claim you were suspicious of the Malfoys, possibly having some flashbacks…" Harry grinned. "Whatever we find, we can use."

"You're asking me to lie to the police." Granger didn't seem amused.

"Perish the thought!" Harry even clasped a hand to his chest. Sirius's influence, Ron thought. "Just tell them that you dimly remember the names and seeing them briefly during your captivity."

Granger's face looked frozen for a moment. Stiffly, very stiffly, she asked: "Did I talk in my sleep?"

Fuck! Ron glanced at Harry, who looked aghast, then at Luna, whose slightly lost expression was quickly turning to horror as everyone realised that Granger had been captured and tortured by the Malfoys in her world. "Perhaps not the Malfoys," Ron said hastily.

After a moment, Granger slowly nodded. "You can't just assume people and things are the same," she repeated herself. "Apart from magic, my world has several sapient species - trolls, giants, goblins, house-elves, merpeople and centaurs, to name a few. That is bound to change people even if they might look like twins."

So far, though, things and people had lined up almost perfectly. Ron bit down on his retort. He had made a gaffe already; no need to compound it. Also… house-elves? Were those like high elves?

Fortunately, a beeping noise served as a distraction. "Oh! A priority message!" Luna announced, jumping up.

"Priority message?" Granger asked.

"It's Daddy!" Luna yelled over her shoulder as she left the room.

Granger looked at Ron. "Is Xenophilius as… security-conscious as Luna?"

"Paranoid, yes," Harry replied. "And it's Xenophon, not Xenophilius."

Ron glared at him. At least, Granger had tried to be diplomatic. Luna was a little quirky, but a great friend. And there was no...

Luna returned. "Ron?" She looked a little concerned. "Your father's at my daddy's, asking for a meeting."

Uh oh.

"Arthur wants to meet us?" Granger asked as they followed Luna to her computer. "Or just Ron?"

Ron made a note that she knew his parents' counterparts - well, he had already assumed that.

"I don't know," Luna replied, "he hasn't said yet." She opened the door to her 'operations room', as she called it, and Ron saw Granger's eyes widen at the sight of the hardware installed there. It might be cobbled together from a dozen different machines, but Luna's rig had serious computing power - which she needed, of course, to run her systems. "Look!" She pointed at the screen to the left, where her mail program was open.

Ron read the message as he sat down. It was brief and to the point: _Son, we need to meet. You and your friends._

He started typing. _We have been framed._

_I know._

_Meeting us is dangerous._

_I trust you to take precautions._

"Why does Arthur want to meet us?" Harry asked. "He should know that we're alright and don't need help. Or food."

Ron rolled his eyes. How long would Harry hold that against Mum? "He knows. So this is about something else."

"Me. He wants to meet me," Granger said.

"We don't know that," Harry pointed out.

Ron shook his head at the sudden role reversal and typed: _Is everything alright?_

_Your mother's forcing me to contact you. She's very concerned._

Ron released his breath. "He's not being forced to do this." To think Dad's silly 'precaution', straight out of a spy novel, would actually turn out to be useful… Ron had merely been humouring his father when he had proposed such code phrases a few years ago.

"But your family will be under observation," Harry said. "Not even Dawlish would be too dumb to consider the possibility that we might contact the Weasleys."

"That's why he went to Daddy!" Luna said, beaming. "No one can spy on our home!"

"That's good for communication," Ron replied. "But he won't be able to shake off a tail." Dad wasn't a trained police officer or spy, after all. And with Bones and Scrimgeour assassinated and several shootouts in London, the police would pull out all the stops to solve the case. Manpower wouldn't be an issue. _Meeting us is dangerous. We'll be fine._

_There's good reason to suspect otherwise._

What? Ron blinked. Dad was a government employee, not a spy or police officer. Why would he say such a thing? He looked at Harry, who seemed equally bewildered. Luna looked intrigued, and Granger was frowning. No help there. _What do you mean?_

_I'll explain when we meet. Can you reach London by tomorrow evening?_

Dad was evading his question? Ron clenched his teeth. _Yes. _That wasn't revealing anything sensitive - you could reach London from almost anywhere in the country in that time.

The next reply was an address: _Dumbledore Manor in 'Mould-on-the-Wold'._

Granger, who was reading over his shoulder, gasped straight into his ear.

* * *

_The Headmaster looked terrible. Pale, thin, with his bad arm hanging uselessly at his side, he seemed barely able to stand, much less walk. He looked frail, she realised with a shock. Judging by the muttered curses she heard from Ron and Harry, they had realised it as well._

_Dumbledore smiled. "I am not quite dead, yet, but I do not expect to live much longer."_

_She swallowed and forced herself to nod as Harry spoke up: "Good evening, sir."_

_He gestured, and three chairs appeared in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat. It is more comfortable to discuss such things while you're seated, is it not?"_

_She pressed her lips together at the hint. They had known the Headmaster had been cursed months ago, but he hadn't looked nearly that bad when they had seen him a few days ago._

_Everyone sat down._

"_Time. Ask me for anything but time." Dumbledore shook his head. "But death comes for everyone, and I have lived a full life. I but wish the circumstances in which we find ourselves were less dire."_

_Was he rambling? She pressed her lips together so she wouldn't blurt out her question. He was Dumbledore, after all._

"_You didn't just call us here to tell us you were dying, did you?" Ron said. "You kind of did that already." _

"_No, I did not merely want to reveal my condition in a dramatic manner." Dumbledore chuckled, but it ended in a heavy cough. "I have called you here to discuss the Order and your mission."_

_She stiffened. Their mission. The hunt for the Horcruxes. The Headmaster had spent the last ten months - the last months of his life, it seemed - teaching and preparing them._

"_Did you find more clues to the Horcruxes' locations?" Harry asked._

"_Alas, I was not so fortunate. You will have to rely on your special connection to Tom's soul," Dumbledore replied. "But a good friend of mine has provided me with a safer method to dispose of your targets." He pulled out a small bottle. "A few drops from this will dissolve anything."_

_Flamel. The 'good friend' had to be Flamel. But…_

_Dumbledore chuckled again, which once more ended in coughing. He conjured a glass of water for himself this time and took a swallow before he continued. "While the Elixir of Life, did not, alas, manage to counter the curse on me, I can assure you that this concoction will not disappoint you. I have tested it myself."_

_Oh. She felt chastised for doubting Dumbledore as Harry took the bottle - very carefully, of course._

"_A tap with your wand will shrink it, another will restore its true size," Dumbledore explained. "I took the liberty of enchanting and reinforcing the bottle."_

_That made her breathe more easily. If they were to break a bottle full of a substance that could destroy a Horcrux while they were carrying it… _

"_Thank you, sir," Harry said._

"_Do not thank me. I leave you with a terrible burden."_

_She thought that he was right. "And who will replace you?"_

"_Alastor will handle most of the Order."_

_Leaving them to deal with the Horcruxes._

"_Tom lost a significant number of his trusted followers in his attack on Hogwarts. Unfortunately, not enough to stop his rise to power. Not once I'm dead." The Headmaster shook his head. "Soon, those who dared to oppose him will have to flee and hide. I can only hope that those he will target will heed my advice - or be scared into hiding by my death. But, at the very least, Severus killing me will cement his cover."_

_She wasn't the only one who gasped. Snape was… a spy? "Should you be telling us that?" she asked. Dumbledore had impressed on them how vital secrecy was._

"_You already know the most important secret. If you should fail, if you should get captured and your secrets revealed, all is lost anyway. And if you succeed, your word will save Severus." He coughed once more. "You know what you have to do."_


	8. Chapter 8: The Retired Gentleman

Once more, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 8: The Retired Gentleman**

**Near Savernake Forest, Wiltshire, Britain, July 10th, 2005**

"Hey." Ron reached out, but Granger shook her head before he touched her. Another flashback. So much for the quality of her therapist. On the other hand, she couldn't have told them what she had really experienced, of course.

"Sorry… I know that name," she said.

"Oh?" Luna perked up. "Friend or foe?"

Granger took a deep breath. "He was the Headmaster of my school. And the leader of the Order of the Phoenix." And, obviously, dead in her world. "The only man, or so it was said, who Voldemort ever feared."

"Yet, he died, and Riddle lived," Harry not-quite-asked in a bitter voice.

Ron pressed his lips together - the failure, as Harry saw it, of the police to stop Riddle before he managed to murder the Potters was a very sore point for his friend.

Granger narrowed her eyes at him. "He was cursed in a trap. He was never defeated in open combat."

"It's not very useful to win every fight yet lose the war," Harry pointed out.

"We hadn't lost the war when I was transported to this world," Granger retorted, scowling now.

"But you didn't think much of your chances," Harry shot back.

Ron cleared his throat. "Let's focus on the current problem. What do we do about this meeting?" He quickly typed: _Please wait a minute_.

_Ok, son._

"I think we should meet Dumbledore," Granger said, with another glare at Harry.

"Based on his counterpart being your teacher?" Harry didn't bother hiding his doubts, Ron noticed.

"Based on the fact that Arth…" She looked at Ron. "That your father is asking for a meeting, and that Albus Dumbledore was very important in my world. While, as I said before, repeatedly, I might add, we cannot trust someone just because their counterpart was someone I trusted, so far there has been a correlation in both trustworthiness and influence. Bones, Scrimgeour, Yaxley."

"It could be a trap," Harry retorted. "Arthur might trust whoever is behind this, but he could be mistaken."

Ron wanted to defend Dad, but he had to admit that that was possible. Not aloud, though. "We will have to scout out the area for ambushes."

"You want to go, then?" Luna asked. She sounded quite eager.

"The area, the manor - that's a lot to cover," Harry replied. "And if it's a trap by the police, they'll have the SAS dropping down on us from a chopper."

That was a sobering thought. Ron knew he wasn't a slouch in a fight, but to go up against those blokes... "But we have an advantage they can't anticipate," Ron retorted with a grin.

"Yes! Magic!" Luna pumped her fist.

Harry, though, frowned, and Granger didn't look quite as enthusiastic as Luna. "My magical means are very limited," she said. "I can't just snap my fingers and reveal a trap."

"But you can read thoughts, can't you?" Harry challenged her. "If you can rearrange thoughts, you can read them as well."

Granger blinked. "It doesn't work like that. One is a charm, and the other is a skill you have to learn."

"What?" Ron blurted out. "You mean you manipulate memories without knowing what they are?"

Granger winced. "Yes. It's often very crude and blunt."

Oh my God. Ron couldn't imagine that. Well, he could, actually - but it wasn't a pleasant thought.

"The Obliviators mostly just remove a few minutes of someone's memory and confund them. Muggles usually make up explanations for whatever happened," Granger said.

That didn't make it sound it any better. He focused on the problem at hand. "Can you turn us invisible?"

"Not without a wand," she replied. "I don't have an invisibility cloak, and if I had one, it would have faded by now - they don't last long. I cannot teleport, either - well, I could make an attempt, but it might leave parts of us behind. Such as an arm or leg. That's called _splinching_."

Ron wasn't the only one who winced at that.

"So... what can you do with your magic?" Harry asked.

Granger pressed her lips together, then sighed. "I have various potions. It depends on what you need. A way to infiltrate the manor, or a way to escape?"

"Both," Harry told her with a toothy smile.

She pressed her lips together. "I have a limited supply of Shrinking Solution. I prefer the Shrinking Charm, but I acquired these from… someone who had no further use for any of his possessions."

"Waste not, want not," Ron said. "So, how much does one shrink after drinking one?"

"It depends on how much you drink, but you can reduce a cow to the size of a mouse."

"Wow!" Luna clapped her hands together. "Imagine how you could spy on someone with that!"

"Just check whether they have a cat or dog, or another pet, first," Granger said.

"Oh."

"Well, we have our escape plan," Ron announced.

"We do?" Luna asked, cocking her head as she looked at him. Granger and Harry weren't as obvious, but they were looking at him with similar expressions.

"Yes," Ron replied. "All we need is an RC helicopter - and someone at the controls."

"I don't think the SAS or whoever might be ambushing us would let an RC helicopter get close," Granger pointed out.

"That's why you'll be carrying it in your bag. We can use some other of your surprises to gain enough time to drink the potions and get on the chopper," Ron said.

Harry, of course, didn't like the plan. But after thrashing out the details and a few contingencies - they couldn't count on radios working inside the manor, after all - Luna and, more importantly, Granger were on board. And so Ron messaged Dad that they'd be there tomorrow.

* * *

While Granger, prodded not-too-subtly by a hovering Luna, was noting down some of her old friends and allies, Ron went to find Harry, who had gone 'to check the perimeter'. Which, given that Luna had placed more cameras in the area than you could find in the City, meant that Ron's friend had gone to brood.

Ron climbed the stairs, checked the screen at the top for witnesses, then stepped out and took a deep breath. Even close to the dusty barn, the air smelt fresher than below - Luna had gone to great lengths, but filters could only do so much.

"Am I needed downstairs?"

Good, Ron thought as he turned, He hasn't left the barn for the woods. There Ron's friend stood, leaning against a support pillar in the middle of the barn. "No, Granger's still working on her list," Ron told him as he walked over.

Harry snorted. "Luna's not helping, huh?"

Ron pressed his lips together for a moment. Luna was a great friend, and she meant well. And, as far as he could tell, Granger was aware of that.

"Sorry," Harry said.

Ron grunted. Harry didn't mean it. "So, what are you brooding about?" As he'd known, Harry frowned at him and didn't answer. "Missing Ginny?"

"You already asked me that."

"And you didn't answer," Ron retorted.

"Of course I miss her!" Harry snarled.

"Sorry." Ron held up his hands. But he had to ask. "Should I have asked Dad to pass on a message while we were talking?" Harry hadn't said anything, but Ron could have asked - if he had thought of it.

"No." Harry shook his head, then brushed a dust mite off his sleeve. "I'll ask myself next time. Provided that the meeting isn't a trap."

"It shouldn't be." If Dad was compromised… Ron didn't want to think about what that would mean. For them, and for his family.

His friend snorted. "We were attacked at our last meeting. And Bones knew what she was doing."

"There was also a traitor in CI5, probably close to her," Ron pointed out.

Harry pushed off the pillar. "Let's hope whoever is after us will keep making mistakes."

"We have our escape plan ready," Ron replied.

"Getting shrunk and then on to an RC helicopter."

"It was your idea to use magic," he pointed out.

"I was thinking of some way to detect enemies. Or take them out," Harry said. "Not of… getting turned into a mouse."

"Transfigured," Ron told him. "That's the technical term, I believe."

"You've been talking to Granger a lot."

"Yes." Ron let out his breath through briefly clenched teeth. "Knowing what magic can and can't do is important if we plan to depend on it."

Harry grunted, looking at - or acting as if he were - a broken-down tractor.

"You know, magic has laws and limits. And Granger can't just snap her fingers and alter reality," Ron said. If Harry would make the attempt, he could probably figure out a lot.

"Does she have a nice handbook with all the rules in it, too?"

Ron rolled his eyes at the remark. "Very funny." He stepped closer to Harry. "Seriously, stop being so difficult about it. We need to be on top of our game if we want to make it through this."

"'Our game'. Very funny," Harry said, but he was grinning. Then he sighed. "I know. I just hate not knowing anything about magic."

"Well, learn?" Ron shrugged. "Granger can help you."

"She certainly likes to give lessons," Harry said, grinning again.

Ron frowned, then shrugged. It was true, after all - he had thought so himself. But he still didn't like hearing it from Harry. "Let's go downstairs before Luna convinces Granger to curse the government."

"I thought she couldn't do that?"

"She's not supposed to be able to, no."

"But you don't believe it?" Harry asked as the door swung open and revealed the staircase below.

"I think she's holding some things back ," Ron said.

"Ah."

Ron nodded. It was only natural - as Moody had taught them, you never showed your full hand until it was absolutely necessary.

* * *

"So, you can't create food out of thin air, but you can enlarge and multiply existing food," Harry said half an hour later, still taking notes.

"Yes. One of the Five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law," Granger replied.

"But you can create water."

"Yes."

"So, it's food that's special. Not the matter itself." Harry made another note.

"Yes."

"And you could transfigure the water to oil."

"Yes."

"Which is food, provided it's the right kind of oil."

"It wouldn't be edible," Granger said.

"Does that mean it can't be ingested, or that it shouldn't be ingested? And what happens if you mix it with real oil?" Harry leaned forward, just like he usually did when he had caught something during an interrogation.

"Your body will not derive any sustenance from it. But it will not suddenly turn to poison in someone's body."

"So you couldn't - if you had a wand - transfigure, say, mercury into water and add it to someone's drink, then let it transform back and watch them die?" Ron's friend sounded disappointed.

"No, you couldn't. But there are dozens of magical poisons if you need to kill someone."

"And how many do you have on you?"

"A few." Granger sounded a little cagey.

"Enough to, say, contaminate an entire water supply?" Harry asked.

"It would depend on the size."

"But could you enlarge the vial?"

"With magical substances, that's very difficult. Theoretically possible, but few would make the attempt."

Ron wanted to hit himself. He should have known this would happen.

"It's like the Final Fantasy Debacle," Luna whispered next to him.

He frowned at her, which didn't impress her in the slightest. And she was correct. Ron had spent two months trying to get Harry to play Final Fantasy Legend 2, back in school, and once Harry had - finally! - tried the game out, he had quickly monopolised Ron's Gameboy. Until Sirius had bought Harry a Gameboy of his own, at least.

Well, Granger wasn't a Gameboy, of course. Still… Ron felt the same urge to punch Harry that he had felt back then.

And Granger still hadn't finished her list.

* * *

**Mould-on-the-Wold, Gloucestershire, Britain, July 11th, 2005**

"What do you see? Do you see anything? I didn't see anything."

"I don't see anything suspicious," Ron told Luna. He refrained from adding: 'As I told you five minutes ago' - she was a little excited.

"That doesn't mean that there isn't anything suspicious," Harry said, lowering his binoculars.

A competent ambush wouldn't be very easy to detect, Ron knew. But they had circled the village and then the manor for an hour, at a safe distance, and hadn't spotted anything. "If there's a trap, it's probably inside the manor," he said. "And we can't do much about that. But this is a good spot for Luna to control our getaway chopper."

"Yes! It's in range of the remote, and we can hide the getaway car nearby!" Luna agreed.

Ron was quite relieved that she was enthusiastic about her role, instead of complaining about missing out on the first meeting with Dad's mysterious contact. But he didn't want Luna anywhere near a potential fight - she wasn't trained for that, and she didn't have Granger's experience, either. But she was the best RC pilot they had, Harry's opinion that just because he could fly a plane meant he could fly an RC chopper as well notwithstanding.

"Testing, testing," Luna said.

Ron heard her through the bud in his ear, and, of course, normally as well. "It works," he told her. At her pout, he lowered his voice, looked down, where he was wearing a wire under his shirt, and whispered: "It works."

"Great! All set here!"

"Do you have the pouch with the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder?" Granger asked - not for the first time, either. Ron still couldn't tell if she didn't trust anyone else to know what they were doing with the magic powder or because she needed to distract herself so she wouldn't work herself into a nervous frenzy. Not that she wasn't coming close right now anyway.

"Yes!" Luna announced, holding up a small bag. "I'm ready to work magic!"

"Good. Remember, you won't be able to see anything either."

Distraction, Ron decided. Definitely distraction.

"Alright," Harry said. "Let's get this show on the road."

Ron snorted. Cheesy movie quotes were usually his shtick. Perhaps Harry was a little nervous as well. "Literally," he said - they had to go back to where they had hidden the other car, then drive up to the manor. "Keep an eye on the house, but don't expose yourself, OK?" he told Luna.

She laughed. "I've been spying on people for years! Only on corrupt government people, of course."

"That's reassuring to know," Harry said, deadpan.

Luna smiled widely at him. "I know! That's why I said it!"

Ron chuckled at Harry's face, and, after a moment, Luna joined him. To his surprise, even Granger laughed - briefly. Though she gave him a weird look, too, he noticed.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they watched the gates of the manor open as soon as they drove up to it. Someone was watching them - probably watching all approaches to the manor. It's what Ron would have done in their place.

"I wonder if my Dumbledore had a manor as well," Granger said. "He lived at Hogwarts, so it never came up. But this… it's not up to Malfoy's standard, but the owner must be quite quite well-off."

"It's a lot classier than Malfoy's," Harry said as he parked the car next to a sports car. "His dad only married Narcissa so he would get someone with a sense of style in the family."

That was Sirius's opinion, of course. Which wasn't always reliable. "It wasn't hereditary, then," Ron replied. "Remember Malfoy's green suit?"

Both of them laughed at the memory as they got out of the car, followed by Granger. Sunglasses and caps hid their faces, wigs their hair - though Granger's hair had put up quite the resistance.

Before they could take more than a few steps towards the house, a door opened.

"Side entrance," Ron commented. It was more discreet - although anyone observing the manor would spot them entering anyway. And he couldn't see anyone waiting there for them. Of course, they were covered by cameras. One in the open, and, as far as he could tell, two more hidden.

"Will you come into my parlour?" Harry joked.

"We're not flies," Granger said.

"But I'd like to be a fly on the wall!" Luna commented in Ron's ear. "Well, I am, actually. Unless the manor is radio-proof."

He suppressed a chuckle. "Let's go, shall we?"

They entered the manor. The door closed behind them, and they still didn't see anyone.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Ron heard a voice say.

Granger jerked. She whispered something under her breath that Ron didn't catch.

"Please join me in the living room," the voice went on as another door opened, revealing a corridor. Someone had spent a lot of money on this house. And, seeing as Luna was quiet, they had probably lost radio contact. He signalled the others - they would have to adjust their plans accordingly.

Ron walked closer to Granger as they entered the hallway, but she didn't say anything else before they reached the end of the corridor, and another door swung open, revealing a large living room, with old-fashioned furniture and heavy drapes covering the windows.

An old man sitting in a large armchair rose as they entered and nodded at them. "Dr Granger. Mr Potter. Mr Weasley." He was wearing expensive, if understated, clothes and had a short, well-trimmed beard.

"Dumbledore," Granger said - Ron heard her draw a deep breath. "Albus Dumbledore."

The man smiled. "I'm impressed - few would recognise me. I did make an effort to disappear from the public eye."

Granger shook her head. "I didn't know… I mean..."

The man's smile widened. "Now I'm intrigued."

Ron almost moved to interpose himself between the old man and Granger before he could control himself.

"Intrigued?" Granger asked, suddenly sounding more wary - or worried.

"If you didn't know my past, then how did you recognise me?" Dumbledore's smile didn't change as he pushed up his half-moon reading glasses.

Granger didn't seem to have an answer, so Ron spoke up: "She didn't say that."

The old man - he had to be at least seventy - inclined his head. "Yet she denied having researched me, didn't she?"

Ron didn't glare at her. That was an old trick he wouldn't fall for.

"Why did you want to meet us?" Granger asked. It looked like she had recovered her composure. And her attitude. Good.

Dumbledore gestured to the couch in the room. "Will you take a seat? I've found it's more comfortable and more productive, usually, to talk while everyone's sitting."

Ron hadn't spotted any hidden shooters nor any traps - but that didn't mean much. You could hide a lot in your flat if you had enough time.

"I prefer to stand," Harry said, leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed - with his hand next to his shoulder holster.

"By all means," Dumbledore said, still smiling - rather condescendingly, in Ron's opinion.

But Granger was sitting down, so Ron followed her example, taking a seat next to her on the couch.

"I would offer you some refreshments, but I think you would refuse them, at least for now."

Ron pressed his lips together. He didn't like the man's attitude. But he liked the fact that Dumbledore seemed to know so much about them even less. "How do you know my father?" Dad had never mentioned Dumbledore. "And where is he?"

"Arthur couldn't shake the people keeping him under observation," Dumbledore told him. "You can speak to him through the phone on the table, though. As to how I know him… I helped him out of a tight spot some time ago. A sticky situation, but I managed to solve it."

"So he owed you," Harry said as Ron grabbed the phone and sent Dad a quick message using another of the signs from the signs and countersigns his father had taught Ron and his siblings. Within a second, he received the countersign and sighed in relief. He would hold off speaking to Dad until Dumbledore wasn't listening in.

"He thinks he does. I was just doing what was right." Dumbledore said, apparently not paying attention to Ron.

Granger made a choking noise in response to that.

"Dr Granger?" Of course the old man wouldn't miss that. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said - though Ron could almost feel her tension. "Who are you?"

"A good question. I'd like to say that I'm a retired gentleman." Dumbledore chuckled. "It's true - from a certain point of view."

Now he was quoting Star Wars? Ron glared at him.

Which Dumbledore seemed to find amusing. "I'm sorry - at my age, one is bound to become a little eccentric." He sighed. "But I digress. So, I was the Chief of the Secret Intelligence Service for a rather troubled time in the eighties."

The man had been the boss of MI6? The infamous 'C'? Ron tensed. That meant the old man would be prepared for a fight. He glanced around, but he still couldn't spot any sign of a trap or an ambush. But opening the windows and fleeing by air might be more difficult than they had anticipated.

"And what do you want?" Granger asked.

"I could say I want to help deal with a quite embarrassing situation for the government - not that Downing Street or my successors would acknowledge, much less thank, me - but it's mostly to satisfy my curiosity," Dumbledore said. He leaned forward and steepled his hands. "Even after retirement, I kept an ear to the ground, so to speak. In my business, it pays to keep abreast of developments, lest you find yourself out in the cold and being hunted."

Ron clenched his teeth at the implied criticism. There wasn't anything they could have done.

"So when I heard that certain, shall we say, assets of former opponents of mine were being sent to England to hunt down a physicist, shortly followed by the murders of senior police officers, I began to wonder exactly why people were going to such great lengths in your case, Dr Granger."

"'Former opponents'?" Harry asked.

"The Cold War ended shortly after my official retirement, leaving a number of very capable - and dangerous - assets bereft of gainful employment by the state they had served. Many of them decided to enter the private sector. As did some of their superiors." He shook his head. "Given my past, it was only logical to keep an eye on them."

"What… Are you telling me that the Russian Mafia is hunting me?" Granger sounded as if she couldn't believe it.

"That is exactly what I'm saying, my dear. Although parts of the Russian government have close ties to them as well, so they might just be a front. However, that doesn't answer the most important question: why?" He looked at Granger, slightly tilting his head.

"I don't _know_!" Granger replied - a little too forcefully, Ron thought.

"But I think you suspect." Dumbledore leaned back. "The theory that this is related to your kidnapping, as the media are so fond of speculating, can be safely dismissed, in my opinion. Almost ten years passing before someone moved against you? That would have been far too late to silence a witness, and far too long for the kind of obsessed criminal who couldn't let you get away. So this is either related to your private life or to your work. And, please excuse my bluntness, you don't have a private life."

Granger drew a sharp breath at that, and Ron thought her eyes were blazing, but she didn't contradict the old man.

"Which leaves your work." Dumbledore shook his head. "Research that, when it was first proposed, was criticised for its utter lack of practical application."

So he had investigated Granger thoroughly. Of course, for a man with his contacts, that probably didn't take much of an effort. Unless Dumbledore had treated his co-workers and colleagues with as much condescension as he was treating them, and they ignored him as soon as he retired.

"My work is well-documented as investigating a purely theoretical aspect of quantum physics," Granger replied - but a moment too late to sound completely natural.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well-documented doesn't mean that something is actually true, though, does it?"

Harry frowned, Ron saw, but this was on their heads as well - they had known that Granger wasn't the best liar. And facing a former head of the Secret Intelligence Service? Ron snorted, earning him a smile from Dumbledore and a glare from Granger and Harry.

"So what exactly did you discover that has attracted such attention?"

Granger hesitated. Ron saw her open her mouth, but she didn't start speaking. Instead, she glanced at him and at Harry. Harry kept scowling - at Dumbledore, now. But the old man didn't seem to be impressed at all.

Ron sighed. "Dad trusts him, or he wouldn't have arranged this meeting," he told them.

Dumbledore didn't seem to mind the rudeness. A pity - Ron would have liked to get back at the man, a little at least.

Granger looked at Harry. Ron's friend scoffed.

The witch frowned, then, after another glance at Ron, turned back to face Dumbledore and took a deep breath. "I'm working on opening a portal to a parallel world."

The old man's eyebrows rose, and his smile faded - although not completely. Then he stared at Granger for a few seconds, before he slowly nodded. "That makes sense. Your home world, I presume?"

Ron wasn't the only one gaping at him. "How…" He cut himself off by pressing his lips together.

Dumbledore smiled and answered anyway. "It was an educated guess, of course. But, once more, the key is in the wording. You, Dr Granger, spoke of 'a parallel world'. Why did you pick that term? Why not 'an alternate world'? Or 'another dimension'? You might be speculating, but I don't think you'd let your assumptions and theories be presented as facts, not even in this context. Which means you have some information on which you base your terms. If you had the ability to observe another world and revealed it, you would have earned yourself a Nobel prize for certain. Fame and fortune would have been yours."

"I'm not interested in either," Granger snapped.

"No, you aren't. Which is another clue. You keep your real research secret. Why would you do that? Why, indeed, if not to travel to another world yourself, without anyone the wiser?" He nodded. "You might have been afraid of the effect your work will have on the world. A way to travel to other earths? Different worlds? How tempting - and how dangerous. Would you usher in a new age of colonialism, or open our world to an invasion?"

Ron frowned. He should have been considering that - he had read enough sci-fi books, after all, with similar plots. And Granger was flinching.

"You could have stopped working. Destroyed your notes. Perhaps sought the patronage of the UN, to relieve yourself of your responsibility. Yet you continued. Why would you do that? You might simply be driven by intellectual curiosity or the desire to overcome the challenges such work represents. But I guessed that the real reason is that you want to return home." Dumbledore leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. "And I guessed correctly, didn't I?"

Granger slumped and sighed. "Yes."

Dumbledore didn't quite gloat, but he nodded with a certain air of satisfaction which came close.

"But it's impossible for anyone else to know what I'm doing," Granger protested. "Not only have I not shared my notes with anyone, not even a computer, but without certain knowledge only I possess, the notes wouldn't make any sense."

"I would not dismiss that possibility out of hand, my dear," Dumbledore said. "You arrived in our world in 1998, didn't you? You weren't kidnapped for seven years, were you?"

"Yes, I did. I was mistaken for my counterpart. But I told my… her parents the truth as soon as I could."

"Well, I think you overlooked a possibility, my dear: What would someone who was certain that you were not the original Hermione Granger assume after you resurfaced?"

Ron shook his head. There was a problem with that assumption.

"Why would they have waited seven years, though?" Harry asked. "Her 'return' was national, even world-wide, news."

"Perhaps they weren't certain. Perhaps they - those who have the power to move against her - have only just recently come into possession of this information. Perhaps they previously thought you an impostor. But once someone is reasonably sure that you are another Hermione Granger they will come up with a very short list of possible explanations," Dumbledore replied. "Coupled with your work…" He spread his hands. "I don't think it would take a genius to work out that you are far more valuable than anyone else had realised."

'Valuable'? Ron narrowed his eyes. Dumbledore had just stressed how important the terms one used were, hadn't he?

Damn.

"They could assume that I'm a clone," Granger replied.

"That is possible," Dumbledore admitted, "but unlikely. Why would anyone have not only cloned a little girl who was kidnapped years ago, but keep it a secret, yet let the girl go?" He shook his head. "No, I think whoever is hunting you suspects what you are working on, even though they remain ignorant of the exact details behind it. Not unlike my own position," he added with a smile.

Fishing for more information. Two could play that game. "Not unlike our own position with regards to your intentions," Ron said before Granger could spill even more information.

"Touché," Dumbledore said, not losing his smile. Ron was starting to suspect that the man would keep smiling even in the face of death - his own or his enemies'.

"You've satisfied your curiosity," Harry told him with the hint of a sneer. "Mission accomplished."

"You know how things work in our business," Dumbledore replied. "The reward for a successful mission is another mission."

"And what mission would that be?" Ron asked, tensing up.

"Why, helping Dr Granger to finish her work, I think." Dumbledore tilted his head again. "Which includes clearing your names, of course."

How convenient! Ron almost scoffed openly. Helping the 'valuable' scientist...

Granger frowned. "Clearing our names should allow me to return to my lab. Yet you seem to imply that there's more to it."

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded, appearing pleased - like one of Ron's old teachers when someone answered a question correctly. "You have, undoubtedly, realised just how important and dangerous your work is. As has your mysterious enemy. As long as they are not dealt with, you wouldn't be safe at your former place of work."

"My '_former _place of work'?" Ah, there was Granger, finally showing some spine again!

"Correct. Even if this Russian connection is cut, which I trust will happen, with some help, a number of people will make similar deductions. At the very least, they will assume that your work isn't quite as boringly theoretical as you made it out to be. They will investigate. And while I don't doubt that you were quite clever, a thorough investigation will eventually uncover even the smallest of irregularities - those which would ordinarily be overlooked." The old man sighed. "I don't think you will be able to continue your work at your laboratory, even if the government will keep your parents safe."

Granger's face fell, and Ron saw her clench her fists. He understood her reaction - this was a huge setback. And something they should have realised themselves.

"And you have a solution for that?" Granger spat more than she said.

"I believe so. However, perhaps we should inform your backup that you haven't fallen into a trap?" Dumbledore said, raising his eyebrows.

"Our backup?" Harry asked, acting, quite convincingly, in Ron's opinion, as if he didn't know what Dumbledore was talking about.

"Please, Mr Potter. I'm familiar with your and Mr Weasley's efforts. I don't believe both of you would have entered my manor without having someone else ready to come to your rescue."

Ron really, really hated the man's smug smile and patronising manner. At least he hadn't deduced Luna's identity. Or, Ron thought, that's what he wants us to think…

On the other hand, they had already told him almost everything, and he hadn't sprung a trap on them. But to reveal Luna? No. Certainly not to a former chief of MI6. That would be betraying her trust. "They'll be fine," he said.

Dumbledore seemed to accept his answer with a nod. Although… Harry and Granger had deferred to Ron. Would that be enough for Dumbledore to deduce Luna's identity? Had it been?

Granger spoke up before Ron found an answer: "And how would a retired spymaster be able to help me with my work? Using your influence with your former co-workers?"

Dumbledore laughed. "I don't think they would heed my advice, no matter how sensible. And most of those who remain of my friends are now retired as well." He shook his head. "Besides, my successors wouldn't need my advice to realise what you represent. Although they might need more time. No, I wasn't offering what influence in Britain I still command." He smiled. "I can offer you a modern laboratory with everything you need."

That sounded too good to be true, in Ron's opinion. And it was a common con strategy: First, lay out a supposedly huge problem, then propose a neat and simple solution and watch your mark fall for it.

"My work requires a lot of power," Granger said. Was she actually falling for this?

"Power isn't a problem, my dear."

"Really?" She frowned. "I had a lot of trouble to secure my lab. And I am to believe you could whip one out just like that?"

Once more, Dumbledore inclined his head. "My finances greatly improved after my retirement. Arranging access to a laboratory on par with, if not better than, your last one is not much of a challenge." He leaned forward. "However, I would have to know what else you're hiding about your work."

Ron glanced at Granger, whose brief but clearly surprised expression had, unfortunately, once again betrayed her thoughts and confirmed Dumbledore's claim. At least she didn't bother denying it this time.

"I don't think revealing anything else is advisable before you've proved that you can actually provide me with a laboratory suitable to my needs," she said, raising her chin. "And explained just how exactly you managed to amass such wealth as a retired government employee."

Ron nodded in support - he was more than familiar with the income of even a senior member of the civil service, and the Dumbledore family, while not as poor as the Weasleys, wasn't wealthy enough to make up the difference - they had checked that.

Dumbledore ran a hand over his short, well-groomed beard for a moment. "A fair demand, I think. And, although I didn't exactly advertise my private life and kept it out of the press thanks to a few favours I was owed, it's not a secret either - though some of my old co-workers certainly wish it were." He leaned back. "I am the co-owner of the Phoenix Gruppe."

Ron whistled. Phoenix Gruppe was one of the bigger German corporations. They were mainly known for their armament branch, but they had interests in many other sectors.

"Technically, even a single share would make you a co-owner," Harry pointed out.

The old man's smile widened. "You are correct. However, such word games wouldn't serve me here." He looked at Granger. "I own fifty per cent of the shares of the main holding firm."

Ron blinked. Even taking the fact that a lot of the subdivisions were publicly traded into account, that meant the old man was a multi-billionaire. How could he have managed…? Of course! "You were one of the founders of the firm, weren't you?"

"Correct!" Dumbledore beamed at him.

Ron suppressed a scowl. Would the old man ever stop acting as if they were precocious students answering questions in school?

"It was shortly after the end of the Second World War. I had served in the Secret Service during the war - the details are still classified - and I wasn't yet quite certain whether I should continue my career in the service or join the millions of other young men returning to civilian life. So when I had the opportunity to invest in a new company being founded, I took it. Despite my father's wishes at the time - he was a very traditional man." His smile turned a little sad for a moment, or so Ron thought.

"A _German _firm?" Harry didn't bother hiding his doubts.

"I was in Germany at the time," Dumbledore replied. With a smile, he added: "I was of the opinion that if both Britain and the United States were recruiting every talented German for various tasks, provided they weren't too badly tainted by their service to the Nazis, then co-founding a company myself would also be acceptable." He frowned briefly. "Do you disagree, Dr Granger?"

She was staring at Dumbledore, not quite shocked, but close, Ron noticed. "Would… would the other founder of the Phoenix Gruppe be named Grindelwald?"

"Why, yes. Gellert Grindelwald."

* * *

'Dumbledore revealed as Grindelwald's ally! Plans to subjugate Magical Europe and oppress pureblood culture discovered!'

_She fought the urge to throw the Daily Prophet to the ground of their tent. Dumbledore had fought and defeated Grindelwald! Everyone knew that - it was the most famous duel of the century! Perhaps of all time! "What are they thinking?" she spat, shaking her head._

"_It's propaganda," Ron replied. "Like their 'reports' about muggleborns stealing magic. They paint Dumbledore as the real Dark Lord because they hope such lies will erode our support in Britain."_

"_And in the other countries," Harry added, scowling. "But it'll make it harder for the Delacours to get us help from France." _

_She nodded - few, if any, French wizards and witches would ever help a friend of Grindelwald. Not after the atrocities committed by his followers in the forties._

"_If only the Death Eaters had attacked Bill and Fleur's wedding instead of the Ministry," Ron muttered._

"_Ron!" She glared at him._

"_What?" He grinned as he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders - after planting a kiss on the nape of her neck. "They had half the French Gendarmes there, surrounding the chateau. If Tom had attacked the wedding, he'd have lost most of his followers, and France would have moved against him. And they wouldn't even have come close to the guests, anyway."_

_He had a point, but she didn't like admitting it. Nor that this might have been the Order's plan. She huffed instead. "In any case, this is a transparent lie few, even in Britain, will believe." Dumbledore, friends with one of the worst dark wizards in Europe? Who had dragged the entirety of Magical Europe into the bloodiest war of the Wizarding World of the century until stopped by Dumbledore? Preposterous! The Headmaster's career spoke for itself. Voldemort had to be desperate to stoop to using such obvious lies._

_She dropped the newspaper. She couldn't dwell on this - Luna and Lee would deal with the enemy propaganda anyway. She and her friends had a bank robbery to plan._


	9. Chapter 9: The List

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 9: The List**

**Mould-on-the-Wold, Gloucestershire, Britain, July 11th, 2005**

"From your reaction, I assume that you knew both my and Gellert's counterparts in your world. And not under the best of circumstances." Dumbledore's smile had faded almost completely.

Granger shook her head. "I never met Grindelwald."

"But you'd heard of him." Dumbledore leaned forward.

Ron matched him - and shifted his weight a little. Just in case. Whatever trap the man must have prepared might be avoided if Ron managed to tackle him. Dumbledore didn't strike him as the suicidal type, and even so-called knockout gas wasn't exactly safe to use, as the Moscow theatre hostage crisis had proved.

"I had, yes. I dismissed what I heard, though." Granger spoke very precisely, almost biting the words out.

Ron reached over, touching her thigh with the back of his hand. She stiffened, then slowly breathed out.

"What exactly did you hear? It seems obvious that there are significant differences between this world and your own."

Granger snorted at that. "You might say so, yes."

Dumbledore inclined his head, but she still hesitated to elaborate, Ron saw. He cleared his throat. "Explaining the differences would also reveal important secrets."

Granger frowned at him for a moment, then turned her attention back on Dumbledore. "Could you tell us more about Mr Grindelwald and how you met him?"

Dumbledore hesitated a moment before that slightly condescending smile of his appeared again. "Of course." He leaned back. "I met him on a mission in occupied Europe in 1943. Paris, to be exact - the City of Love had seen better days, but even under the Germans, there was a certain _je ne sais quoi_… but I digress. It was one of my first missions - I had completed my training a year previously and volunteered for the Special Operations Executive - I was a Baker Street Irregular. Since I spoke perfect French, I was sent on a mission to France."

They certainly wouldn't have sent the man to Norway, Ron thought.

Dumbledore sighed. "Gellert was a member of the Abwehr. A very junior member, of course. He had pulled a few strings to get posted to Paris - his mother knew Admiral Canaris, a relationship that got Gellert into trouble after the failed assassination of Hitler in July 1944. Fortunately, he managed to deflect the suspicion of the Gestapo, or he might have been executed as well."

Dumbledore hadn't said if Grindelwald had actually been involved in that plot. Ron took that to mean that that hadn't been the case. He glanced at Harry, who was frowning. So, he had noticed that as well. Granger, though, seemed to be listening with rapt attention.

"Anyway, I met Gellert in Paris - we frequented the same bars. I quickly realised that he was a member of the Abwehr, and he claims he was suspicious of me as well, but since he never tried to take me in, I think that's mostly his bruised ego speaking." He chuckled. "In any case, I should have avoided him, faded away and focused on my mission, but I was young and foolish. The prospect of working on my mission while socialising with my direct opposite was irresistible."

"You fell in love," Granger said.

Dumbledore's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. "Perhaps the differences between our worlds aren't as great as I assumed. Yes, indeed, we had an _amour fou_, as the French would say. We were enemies, in the middle of the war, and even in peacetime, both our countries would have considered our relationship a crime - it was exactly the sort of foolishness young men were wont to engage in."

For the first time, Dumbledore's smile seemed, in Ron's opinion, to be completely devoid of condescension and deceit.

"Of course, it couldn't last. We both knew it. The Invasion happened in June 1944, and in August, the battle for Paris began." The old man shook his head. "The police rose against the Germans, and battles broke out all over the city while Leclerc advanced towards Versailles. Gellert rushed to the hotel in which I was staying, braving the general madness, to get me out of the city - he knew what would happen to _collaborateurs_. Unfortunately, he managed to catch me when I was meeting with members of the Resistance, and things took a rather violent turn. No one died, fortunately, and he managed to escape and evade pursuit, rejoining the German lines as they retreated. I didn't see him again until the war had ended."

"And you rekindled your relationship," Granger said rather than asked.

"It wasn't as easy as that makes it sound," Dumbledore told her, "but, essentially, yes." He shrugged. "The most devastating war in the history of the human race had just ended, and millions had to adjust to the sudden changes. Gellert proved to be as adaptable as he was intelligent, and we, well, came to an arrangement."

"You protected him," Harry said.

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "I did expedite him getting cleared, but as a very young member of the Abwehr with relatives implicated in the failed plot against Hitler, he wouldn't have been treated as a true believer in the Nazi ideology anyway."

"But _was _he a Nazi?" Granger asked, staring at Dumbledore.

"If he had ever been one, he wasn't, not any more."

"Ah."

Granger's smile was hard to read.

After a moment, Ron spoke up: "Dad's message claimed that we were in danger."

If Dumbledore was annoyed at the change of topic, he didn't show it. "You aren't as safe as you might think you are. The foiled terrorist attacks, the two high-profile assassinations and Britain's most famous kidnapping victim possibly being kidnapped again - the public is demanding results and retribution, and the government will do its utmost to deliver, lest the minister in charge lose even more face and be replaced by one of their rivals in the party."

Ron snorted, but had to agree - justice wasn't as effective at pushing the government into action as the threat of losing power.

Dumbledore nodded at him and folded his hands again. "As a consequence, the authorities will not shy away from any means to find you - and Dr Granger. They already have your family under observation, Mr Weasley. And after Arthur's visit to Mr Lovegood, they will place him and his daughter under surveillance as well. Then once the Grangers resurface, they will also be put under surveillance. Technically, they already are, of course."

Ron didn't react. He was certain of that. But the old man was correct - if Dad had been spotted visiting Xenophon, then it wouldn't take a genius to order Luna to be put under surveillance as well. And while Luna had gone to great lengths to hide her place, no cover was perfect. Put against the efforts of the government, and assuming that they would look the other way while certain police officers bent a few laws, they would be able to find Luna's home - eventually.

"That you were once in a relationship with Miss Lovegood is known. As is the fact that you broke up amicably," Dumbledore went on.

"Xeno's a very careful man," Ron replied. "Even if they break into his home, they won't find anything on his computers." And he knew how to delete data properly so it couldn't be reconstructed. And how to encode messages so they couldn't be deciphered any time this century.

"I don't doubt that. But I also know my former department. And trust me - people who cut their teeth foiling the KGB's best plans will not be daunted by the efforts of an amateur, however gifted they might be."

Ron wanted to frown - both at the implied insult to the Lovegoods' skill and at the threat being laid out so plainly. He didn't, though. Dumbledore wanted him to show a reaction so he could confirm his guess. "We aren't easy to find," he replied instead.

"You need help hiding," Dumbledore retorted.

"No, we don't," Harry stated. "We can hide as long as it takes the police to sort this out without any outside help."

Dumbledore slowly nodded, apparently acknowledging the point. "But do you want to? And that still doesn't help Dr Granger in achieving her goals. As I've already explained, Dr Granger, you won't be able to continue your subterfuge, I'm afraid. Her Majesty's Government is not as quick to grasp the full ramifications of every situation as it should be, but in this case, they can hardly miss the implications."

"And you claim to be a more trustworthy source of help than our government?" Granger asked. "A former spymaster turned arms manufacturer who is collaborating with a former Nazi spy?"

"Technically, Gellert wasn't a spy - he was counter-intelligence," Dumbledore replied. With a smile, he added: "But you are correct: I do claim that I'm more trustworthy than our government. Of course, I am slightly biased." He chuckled. "However, I don't think I've given you cause to distrust me any more than our government - none of my employees, after all, are currently hunting you or tried to frame your friends for murder."

"So you say." Harry was still standing with his arms crossed, staring at the old man.

"If I were behind the attacks on you, wouldn't I have made my move long ago? I could have taken Mr Weasley's family hostage, for example. And ambushed you as soon as you entered my home." Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "If I meant you and yours harm, I would have handled this quite differently, I assure you."

Of course, the man could be merely trying to gain their trust - Granger's trust - by playing nice. But such plans were convoluted and prone to failure. On the other hand, Dumbledore was the partner of a former Nazi - a real Nazi. "And what do you get out of this?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes at the old man. "You wouldn't be offering a fortune's worth of resources - and risking a possible charge of treason - simply to satisfy your curiosity."

"Oh, at my age? Trust me, I would." Dumbledore laughed. "Neither myself nor Gellert have any family we can stand, so our considerable fortunes will, after our eventual but inevitable deaths, be left to Germany and the United Kingdom, respectively. And while I would never consider myself a traitor, my loyalty to my country isn't so strong as to keep me from spending a small fortune on indulging my whims." He leaned forward. "Moreover, spending a small fortune to, let us say, prolong our lives a little longer? That would be an immensely shrewd investment at any age, wouldn't it?"

Ron frowned. What did the old man mean? He glanced at his friend; Harry was frowning as well. But Granger… the woman was nodding.

Ah. "You're counting on gaining access to the technology of Dr Granger's world to prolong your life," Ron said.

"Precisely," Dumbledore told him. "I don't think I'm wrong in assuming that Dr Granger's world is quite a bit more advanced than ours if, at her age, and with only access to our technology and knowledge, she can construct a means to travel between worlds. And humans being humans, I trust them to have invested considerable resources in warding off death."

Granger chuckled at that. "Some of them, at least. Others considered death but the next great adventure."

"I have to admit, Dr Granger, that I'm not particularly religious. And, according to your file, neither are you."

She sighed. "You are correct. Both in my view of religion and in your assumption that my world's population tends to live considerably longer than yours. Your counterpart, for example, was a hundred and fifteen years old when he was killed."

Dumbledore positively beamed at her.

Granger's answering smile looked both tired and cynical. "However, as the circumstances of my arrival might have indicated, I don't know how my home's faring - when I, involuntarily, left, we were fighting a civil war against a mad tyrant."

Dumbledore looked, briefly, surprised - and was that a sliver of annoyance? At having missed or dismissed that information? So the old man wasn't infallible, either. "That tyrant… he wouldn't have been German, would he?" Dumbledore asked.

"No. The Dark Lord, as he called himself, was born a British subject," Granger replied.

"He called himself 'the Dark Lord'?" Dumbledore sounded both appalled and amused.

"He earned the name." Granger sneered, then shook her head. "His followers were so brutal during the first civil war, people were afraid to say his name ten years after the war had ended with his defeat."

"And he returned to start another war?"

"Yes. More successfully, this time. He took control of the country in 1997 in a coup. We fought back, of course, but things were looking grim."

"I see. The situation must have been dire indeed if you were fighting. Unless you're older than your counterpart was."

"I'm twenty-five years old." Granger snorted, though she sounded bitter, not amused. "So, once I open the portal back, I might be returning to a war - or a country ruled by a monster."

Ron tensed again. If Dumbledore decided that this was too much of a danger instead of an opportunity...

"But that would just be in Britain. Other countries wouldn't be touched by the war, would they?"

"That depends on whether the Dark Lord won the civil war and decided to imitate Grindelwald and invade the rest of Europe." Granger showed her teeth.

"I see." Dumbledore chuckled softly. "Gellert will be interested in hearing about his counterpart's exploits, I think. He was quite a bit more important in your world, then."

"Yes. As was your counterpart," Granger said. "He personally defeated Grindelwald in a duel."

"Oh." Dumbledore blinked. "I'm unsure whether I should be proud or sad about that."

"Proud," Granger replied.

"You mentioned that my counterpart was killed. At the hands of this tyrant?" Dumbledore sounded far too casual about the fate of his counterpart, in Ron's opinion.

"Indirectly. As a result of a trap, he was slowly dying and decided to use his own death to let his best spy gain the tyrant's trust," Granger told him.

"Now that is a sound move," Dumbledore said. "Noble, in a way, but certainly effective." He rubbed his beard. "However, to let a young woman like yourself know about it seems a little careless."

He was fishing for more information. Ron shook his head and spoke up before Granger's pride drove her to reveal more secrets. "You don't know the situation."

"Unlike you."

Ron shrugged. "Not in detail."

"I was a member of your counterpart's organisation," Granger just had to explain. "He personally trained our cell for a special mission."

"Despite your age?" Dumbledore tilted his head. "While only a fool would doubt your intelligence, you didn't strike me as an agent."

"Those are the best agents, aren't they?" Ron interjected.

"Touché," Dumbledore admitted. "However, I have a good eye for field agents, if I do say so myself."

"And I don't fit your mould, do I?" Granger retorted with a frown.

"Not exactly, no. And I generally preferred to recruit agents who had been extensively trained - not agents who had barely reached adulthood, no matter their talents."

"We had proved our worth several times by the point we were recruited," Granger shot back.

"We shouldn't go into too much detail," Ron reminded her. Judging by how flushed she became, she understood.

"I won't pry," Dumbledore remarked. "However, trust generates trust."

"And some decisions shouldn't be taken lightly or in haste," Granger declared.

She meant well, and Ron agreed - but now Dumbledore knew that she was keeping an important secret. Well, perhaps he would think his counterpart had not been so sloppy in his training and suspect that it was disinformation.

"Of course. I assume you will want to discuss things with your backup as well. Please, take your time."

Ron really hated the man's smile.

* * *

"A former government spymaster turned arms conglomerate corporate tycoon?" Luna asked wide-eyed.

Ron winced, bracing himself. He knew what was coming.

"He must be evil! Twice over!" Luna blurted out. "A key member of the shadow government conspiracy!"

Yes, Ron was quite glad they had taken the time to check themselves for listening devices.

"His lover is Gellert Grindelwald, a former counter-intelligence operative of the Third Reich. Grindelwald's counterpart was one of the worst dark wizards ever known and almost conquered Magical Europe before Dumbledore's counterpart stopped him," Granger said. "Although I think they were a couple before that war."

"Oh! That's… That's even worse!" Luna shook her head wildly. She started to pace in the small clearing in which they were gathered.

"I don't trust him. He's far too smooth," Harry said.

"Far too condescending, too," Ron added.

"Your father trusts him, doesn't he?" Granger asked.

"Dad owes him," Ron replied. "He's not exactly unbiased."

"And he's offering you his help because he plans to use dark magic to live forever!" Luna declared.

"As a muggle, his options for gaining immortality are rather slim," Granger said. "But magic could be used to keep him fit and healthy for a number of years - not forever, of course. But ten, twenty, more years would be possible, I think."

"What could a man with his power and influence do with two more decades?" Luna shuddered.

"But he is correct in that even after our names are cleared, I won't be able to continue my work in peace. The government wouldn't allow it," Granger pointed out. "And I'll be the target of other countries as well. As will the Grangers."

"Do you trust him?" Harry asked. "He's not the man you knew."

"I know," Granger said, frowning. "But it's not about trusting him - it's about trusting his motivation to be aligned with ours, I mean, mine. Sorry." She shook her head. "I don't think he'll risk losing this chance at living longer."

"Or at discovering more worlds ripe for the picking," Ron added. "Once you finish your work, all bets will be off."

"I know," Granger replied through clenched teeth. "But he's my best chance of going home."

Ron pressed his lips together. She was probably correct. But he really didn't like it.

"And he's our best opportunity to finally reveal all the crimes and conspiracies the government covered up!" Luna stood straight, hands on her hips. "This is our chance to infiltrate his organisation! And help Hermione at the same time!"

Ron glanced at Harry. They couldn't let the two women do this alone. And they couldn't just knock them out and drag them away - they'd be back at the first opportunity.

He sighed.

* * *

Dumbledore's decades of experience as a spy and spymaster meant he wasn't radiating satisfaction when they returned to his manor. Ron thought so, at least - the man's polite manner had to be masking his glee. "Welcome back," he said. "And welcome, Miss Lovegood."

Ron nodded together with Harry and Granger as Luna frowned at the old man. "That remains to be seen, Mr Dumbledore."

"I can assure you that I mean neither you nor your friends any harm," Dumbledore replied. "Our interests align, after all."

"Really?" Luna narrowed her eyes and stared at him. "Then it's true that MI6 was also active in Britain!"

Dumbledore blinked at her. "Pardon?"

"How else would you know what my interests are, if not by spying on me?" Luna explained.

"My dear, I retired from MI6 long before you finished school," Dumbledore replied.

"But not from spying!" she retorted.

"That depends on your definition of spying, I believe." The old man smiled.

"I think 'violating people's privacy' covers spying perfectly," Luna declared.

Dumbledore nodded. "Such actions are often needed, though, lest people lose something even more important."

"That depends on your definition of 'often'," Luna shot back.

Dumbledore laughed at that. "Touché, Miss Lovegood."

Luna smiled in return, but Ron could tell that it wasn't an honest smile. He hoped that Dumbledore didn't manage to read her as easily. Well, at least she hadn't called him a merchant of death, oligarch or traitor to the country.

"We've decided to accept your offer - provided the details fit our needs," Granger said.

The old man smiled. "Of course."

"Such as where you'd set up my new lab," she went on. "And the Grangers' safety."

"I can arrange permanent protection for your family. Privately or through the government. As to the location of your laboratory, that depends entirely on you," Dumbledore told her. "Our facilities in Germany would be safest, but we have a subsidiary in Britain as well."

"Would that be in Scotland?"

"Why, yes. An isolated research facility in the highlands."

"Of course it would be there." Granger shook her head with a dry smile.

"However, you wouldn't be able to move as freely as you could in Germany - your notoriety is quite a bit higher in Britain, so you'd have to go to greater lengths to maintain operational security." Dumbledore spread his hands. "The decision is, of course, yours."

But if they had to leave in a hurry, they would be closer to their own resources. And they would speak the language. Well, a form of it, Ron thought.

"But we'd stick out more in Germany," Luna pointed out.

"You plan to keep Dr Granger company?" Dumbledore didn't sound surprised.

"We always see things through on an assignment," Harry said. His smile was more a challenge than a friendly gesture, Ron noted.

"That might not be well received by whoever ends up being the new leader of CI5," Dumbledore pointed out.

"It doesn't matter," Ron said. "We'll stick this out."

Granger looked surprised for a moment, he noticed, before a brief smile appeared on her face. Truth be told - or not, in this case - Ron had surprised himself a little.

"If Dawlish takes over we'll be screwed anyway," Harry added.

"That man is such a bore." Granger nodded.

Luna was beaming at them. Ron just knew she saw this as them finally 'throwing off the shackles of the government', as she had urged him to do in the past.

* * *

Ron looked around, both out of habit and training, as he walked down the hallway connecting the guest rooms Dumbledore had offered them. He couldn't spot any cameras, but he was certain there was at least one. Well, they had known there would be when they decided to accept the old man's offer. That was also the reason he hadn't gone into any details when he had called Dad - the 'safe phone' Dumbledore had provided would be bugged as well.

Granger opened the door a few seconds after he knocked. "Ah." She didn't seem to be surprised to see him. And she was already wearing her sleepwear, he noticed.

He nodded. "I trust everything's alright with your room?" It was a pretext, and she knew it.

She pulled the door fully open. "Yes."

He could see that her and Luna's room was bigger than his and Harry's. Two beds, two desks, a big armoire and a dresser. He could easily spot Luna's bed - her clothes were spread out over it. Dumbledore had offered them all single rooms, but they had declined. Ron and Harry because even though Dumbledore was unlikely to move against them - there were easier ways to deal with the two of them - they felt safer rooming together. Granger and Luna because Luna had insisted, and Granger hadn't objected.

She stepped to the side. It was as good an invitation as any, and he entered.

"Luna's in the bathroom," she told him.

He nodded - he could hear the running water.

"By the way: thank you," she said after closing the door.

He shrugged. "We see things through."

"At the cost of your career?"

He shrugged again. "We can find other employment."

"The job market for police officers who went rogue might be a little…" She trailed off, wincing.

He smiled. "Things will work out. If all else fails, we can become private investigators." They had planned that, as kids, after all.

"Would that offer a stable income?" She frowned as she sat down on her bed.

"Things will work out," he said. This was more important. He knew it.

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

She looked younger when she smiled, he noticed. Not as… hard, perhaps? Or driven. Almost… He shrugged once more and looked at the window - or, rather, the curtains covering it. "I didn't become a police officer so I could leave people in need to fend for themselves."

"Ah."

"I didn't mean that you were helpless," he explained, looking at her. She wasn't smiling any more. "Just, well… I don't trust Dumbledore."

Granger nodded slowly. "Understandable." She wasn't frowning, but her smile looked polite, not genuine, now - Ron could tell.

"So, I figure it's best we stick together until this is over," he said.

She nodded, then pursed her lips. "I don't want you to feel obligated. Especially not if it means your life and career will be affected." She was looking at the armoire, he noticed.

"You're not a bother," he replied, a little more sharply than he had intended. "Also, we can't exactly hunt down Scrimgeour and Bones's killers. Regulations." And too many other agencies were involved now to be able to get around those pesky rules. "But protecting you, and foiling their plans to get you? That'll hit them where it hurts."

"Ah." She inclined her head. "Does Harry think so as well? Ginny might disagree with his priorities."

He had to snort at that. "Well, he hates leaving things unfinished. And Ginny can't complain - she's away too often for her job." His sister would complain, of course - Ginny wasn't the spoiled little princess any more, but part of her still thought she was special. More than she was, of course. Granger's expression told him she didn't believe him. Well, she had probably known Ginny's counterpart. And she didn't seem to have been convinced of his sincerity. He grinned at her. "Anyway, you're stuck with us."

"I'll try to bear it," she replied, with a grin of her own. And if her smile had made her look younger, her grin made her look… well, fun.

"I'll try not to be too much of a burden."

"Oh, hi, Ron!"

He turned his head. Luna was standing in the door to the bathroom, one towel wrapped around her body, the other around her hair. How had he missed that? Moody would have his head if he knew!

Luna walked in, tilting her head left and right with each step - to shake the water out of one ear without letting it flow deeper into the other, as she had once explained to him. "Are you plotting? Can I help?"

"We're not plotting," Granger said quickly. She wasn't smiling or grinning now. "We were just discussing Ron… Mr Weasley's plans for the future."

"Oh! Are you still planning to become an astronaut?"

Ron closed his eyes for a moment. "I abandoned that idea before secondary school, Luna." As she should know.

"You might have reconsidered - after all, you should never stop dreaming." Luna sat down on Granger's bed. "And Hermione here proves that even the most fantastical dreams can be real!"

She was correct, of course. Though Ron had a feeling that he was missing something.

* * *

**Mould-on-the-Wold, Gloucestershire, Britain, July 12th, 2005**

Granger was scribbling down notes, Ron saw, as Luna, who was, for some reason, glaring at him, let him into their room. "Working?" he asked.

She looked up. "Not on my project." She leaned back with a sigh. "I was finishing the list of my… allies."

"Oh."

"Have finished, I think. I don't think I've missed anyone." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

That explained Luna's reaction - Granger must have recalled some very unpleasant memories doing that. She might've had a flashback or two as well. "Sorry," he said.

"What?" Granger looked at him. Then she shook her head. "I decided to do this. It's not your fault."

"We asked you to," he replied.

"Asked. The decision was mine." She pressed her lips together.

He suppressed a sigh. Stubborn to a fault. She wouldn't even accept his apology.

"We shouldn't have asked you to do this!" Luna exclaimed.

Granger smiled at Luna, tilting her head slightly. "It's OK."

"It's not!"

Ignoring the unfair difference in how Granger treated them, Ron walked up to her desk. "That's the list?" he asked, ignoring Luna's frowning pout.

"Yes." Granger reached out and picked it up, then held it up for him to take. "Here."

He skimmed the list. Harry and his counterparts' were the first names, of course. He looked at her, and she smiled, shrugging.

"Best start at the top."

He snorted, then read on. Luna. Ginny. Fred. George, Percy… everyone from his counterpart's family was next, with the exception of Aunt Muriel. Granger had probably never met the old battleaxe. All of them were alive, or had been when Granger had left her world, he noted with relief. Which vanished when he remembered that Granger had left her world in the middle of a battle and wouldn't know what had happened in the years since.

Dumbledore - deceased. Severus Snape - deceased. He'd apparently been… "A teacher?" he asked.

"Ron!" Luna stepped up to him, hands on her hips, and huffed. "Stop!"

Granger, though, chuckled. "Perhaps get Harry so we only have to go over it once?"

Harry was currently resting - they had traded guard shifts - but he wouldn't want to miss this, Ron knew. And Harry preferred directly hearing testimony instead of hearing about it. "I'll get him."

He dropped the list and went to fetch Harry. As expected, Harry wanted to see the list.

"So, Snape?" Ron asked.

"Snape?" Harry blinked.

"He was a childhood friend of my Harry's mother and hated his father and Sirius. He had an acerbic temper and was very smart, but also incredibly petty and cruel - I only ever saw him smile when he was punishing someone."

"Ah. Sirius mentioned him," Harry said - in a tone that closed that subject for further discussion.

Which, of course, didn't stop Granger from adding: "He was one of our teachers - and a double-agent working for Dumbledore. He got caught helping us, though, and was murdered."

"McGonagall?"

"Another teacher. And our Head of House at school. Flitwick was a teacher as well," she said, mentioning the next name on the list.

"Sirius died?" Harry exclaimed. "You didn't mention that!"

"No, I didn't," she said. "It was rather brutal."

Ron saw her and Harry stare at each other and cleared his throat. "Remus Lupin was also your teacher?"

"Yes. For a year. He was one of our best."

"He's dead," Harry told her.

"Oh. Illness?" Granger asked.

"Yes," Harry said.

Ron had never met the man, though Harry, and especially Sirius, had often talked about him. Magic had probably cured his counterpart. "So many teachers. Did they recruit your entire school?" he asked.

"More or less. Dumbledore had a lot of friends among the teachers, and we students, well… many of us started training when we realised that there would be a war, and that we couldn't count on the Ministry."

"Oh!" Luna held a hand in front of her mouth. "They recruited children as soldiers?"

"We decided to fight," Granger told her.

"But they let you," Harry retorted.

"They had no choice. The Dark Lord's followers were hunting us - many of us - anyway. And my Harry was… linked to the Dark Lord. As his best friends, we wouldn't let him face that monster alone." Granger once more met Harry's eyes. "We've been fighting against him in one form or another since we started school together."

"Crazy," Harry muttered.

Well, Ron could understand not leaving a friend alone. "Fleur Delacour?"

"Bill's wife."

The other Bill was married? "Is she French?" Ron asked.

"Yes. And the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," Granger added.

Probably some sort of siren, then. Ron nodded. That would do it - his Bill wouldn't marry any time soon, no matter how much Mum tried to prod him.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley. Ernie MacMillan." Both deceased.

"They were in our year."

Neither had been at Ron and Harry's school. He read on. "Colin and his brother died?"

"Yes," she replied in a flat voice.

Ron skimmed the list and winced. No wonder Luna was so mad at him and Harry - there really were a lot of dead people on this list.

* * *

Dumbledore was already seated at the head of the table when they entered the dining room - or salon, as he called it - but there was also another man present, standing to the side with a trolley loaded with covered plates. The first member of Dumbledore's staff they had seen so far - though Ron was certain that there were quite a few bodyguards - or assassins - in the manor. You couldn't keep such a building ready for visitors, much less safely guarded, without a lot of people. "This is Johann," the old man told them. "He's handling the cooking and serving."

A sort of butler, Ron guessed. He was certainly dressed to fit the part. And while he wasn't young by any measure, he didn't move like an old man either. Military or similar training would be Ron's guess.

"I hope you had a pleasant morning," Dumbledore went on. "I apologise for not joining you for breakfast, but I was detained by a few minor yet pressing matters."

"No problem," Harry said in a bland tone as he took his seat.

"We managed," Luna told him. "My compliments to you," she added, smiling at Johann. "The scones were delicious. The bread was a little too dark, though."

"That would be my fault," Dumbledore apologised as the other man nodded and started to serve lunch. "Gellert has pretty much banned white bread from our table - he has strong opinions on bread and the documentation to back them up. I stopped challenging him on this point long ago."

"Dark bread is healthier as well," Granger added.

"So people say. I've never quite acquired a taste for it, but please don't tell him that," Dumbledore said with a wink.

Whatever his other skills, Johann was a great cook, Ron found out as the first course - Alsace tarte flambée - was served. Luna shared his opinion and made no secret out of it - at least Dumbledore found her moans amusing rather than rude. Unlike Aunt Muriel.

"A speciality of his," Dumbledore commented. "Alas, Johann's recipe is one of the secrets I've never managed to acquire."

A hint that he was working on Granger's secrets, of course. Well, while he had undoubtedly put them under surveillance, they weren't about to discuss the truth openly anyway. Although… they might attempt a double-bluff: talk about magic and make Dumbledore think they were using 'magic' as code for something. No… Dumbledore knew Granger was from another world; he wouldn't simply dismiss the supernatural. And Moody had always cautioned them against being too clever for their own good - not that Ron had needed much cautioning with Fred and George as negative examples.

The main course - roast with a variant of hollandaise sauce - was served with a small card for Dumbledore. The old man read it, then frowned.

"What's happened?" Harry asked at once.

"It seems Mr Yaxley has disappeared," Dumbledore replied. "I didn't expect this so soon."

"'So soon'?" Ron asked. Had Dumbledore suspected Yaxley? And why hadn't he told anyone?

"It was obvious that this was, at the very least partially, an inside job. Mr Yaxley was among the most obvious suspects, and in light of the attention this has gathered, it was inevitable that the culprit would be discovered. However, I expected it to take a little longer - Mr Yaxley doesn't seem to have covered his tracks well enough."

"He could have been murdered by the kidnappers," Granger pointed out.

"Theoretically possible - but the murderers didn't bother to hide their first victims, did they? So, if he was killed by them, then it's still more likely that he was their inside man and they dealt with a loose end. Ruthless, but efficient. If they are playing the long game, they might even use this to frame others - and sow some more discord amongst our various departments." Dumbledore sounded almost impressed.

"And if he wasn't?" Luna asked.

"Then he wasn't cautious enough despite two dramatic examples of the danger. Although under the circumstances, I don't think he could have been easily killed unless he was deliberately avoiding the police and MI5 operatives and, therefore, bereft of their protection," Dumbledore told her.

"He's running," Harry said.

"That would be my assumption as well - though is he running from his accomplices or superiors, or from the authorities?" Dumbledore spread his hands.

"Those could be one and the same!" Luna interjected.

"They could be, yes - but if our government were behind the attacks on Dr Granger, I dare say they would have gone differently. More competently, for one thing." Dumbledore sounded almost offended at the 'tradecraft' of whoever was hunting them, or so it seemed to Ron.

"The government isn't infallible - quite the contrary!" Luna insisted.

Ron cleared his throat - he had heard that rant before. "If he's running, the police should uncover his involvement soon."

"At which point you will have to decide whether or not you'll return to CI5," Dumbledore pointed out.

"We've discussed that. We'll stick with Dr Granger," Ron told him.

"Splendid! Such loyalty should be rewarded! Allow me to cover your expenses." The old man beamed at them.

Ron had seen more subtle attempts to bribe him. But they could use the money - provided it wasn't dirty. Which, he had to admit, was a distinct possibility. But to refuse would probably cause more trouble - the police would be trying to track their and Sirius's money. "Thank you, sir," he said.

"It's my pleasure. With that settled… Dr Granger, do you have an idea where Mr Yaxley's counterpart might seek refuge?"

"No, I don't. He didn't manage to escape us."

"Ah." Dumbledore sighed. "That would have facilitated matters."

"I don't think you can rely on such details," Granger told him. "For example, your counterpart was the headmaster of a boarding school as well as an internationally famous politician. At the same time," she added.

Once more, Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment. Then he chuckled. "How curious, yet fitting, in a way. But do you know what friends and allies the Yaxley of your world did have?"

Granger drew a hissing breath.

* * *

"_Justin and Ernie are dead."_

"_What?" She looked at Ron, blinking. Had he just told her…?_

_He shook his head and held out the Daily Prophet. "They've got pictures on page two. Not front-page news, I guess," he added with a hollow chuckle._

_She took the newspaper and turned the page, then hissed through clenched teeth. The Death Eaters had taken pictures of the two dying. And the Daily Prophet had printed them - claiming Justin had killed Ernie. Another 'rabid mudblood' killing a poor, trusting pureblood while 'trying to steal his magic'. It had to have been the Imperius Curse! This was… this was… She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand._

"_We can't let them get away with this," Harry snarled - when had he entered the tent?_

"_We've got our mission," she replied immediately. They couldn't start attacking Death Eaters - other Order members would be doing that._

"_I know!" he spat. "But this… We can't let them get away with it," he repeated himself._

"_We won't. But for now we have to focus on our mission."_

"_But once we're done..." Ron bared his teeth. "According to the Prophet, Runcorn's in charge of these 'investigations of muggleborns'. He's a friend of Yaxley's."_

_So, Runcorn was responsible for this. She nodded. "Let's make a list. So we won't forget."_


	10. Chapter 10: The Black Lake

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 10: The Black Lake**

**Mould-on-the-Wold, Gloucestershire, Britain, July 12th, 2005**

Granger had another flashback. She didn't cry out, or even tremble, but the way she tensed and blinked after staring at the wall was telling - Ron knew her well enough by now.

"Dr Granger?" And, of course, Dumbledore hadn't missed it, either.

She sighed. "I was trying to recall with whom Yaxley associated in my world." A blatant lie, Ron thought.

"Ah. I apologise if that brought up unpleasant memories."

Granger nodded in response. "Don't worry. Yaxley wasn't a… particularly bad memory."

If that wasn't a polite lie, then Ron wondered what Granger's worst memories were. And whether he wanted to know. She hid it well, but she was like one of those soldiers who had been in Iraq. Or, given her age, like a recovering child soldier.

"Ah."

"Not because he wasn't an irredeemable mass-murderer, but because we got him," she added with a smile that utterly lacked any humour.

Luna was covering her mouth with both hands now, eyes wide - she really didn't deal well with these kinds of things, despite her wish to know all sorts of dark government secrets - but Dumbledore merely nodded again. Probably reclassifying her, Ron thought.

"In any case, I don't know who he considered friends, but my version of Yaxley was working closely with Albert Runcorn and Dolores Umbridge when he was having civilians murdered. Presumably, he was friends with other Death Eaters and bigots." She pulled out a copy of her list of enemies. "However, and I stress this, our worlds are different enough that you cannot assume that people are the same." She smiled grimly. "You and your partner are the best examples we've seen of that so far."

Dumbledore's smile didn't waver at the implied criticism. "Quite so, my dear. However, it's still useful information from which we might glean some insights. When I was still in Her Majesty's Secret Service, I was often forced to work with far less information."

Ron ignored the glance Granger sent to Harry and him. It was sound reasoning, after all, so it was to be expected that other people would use it as well. "That was our thought also."

Once more, Dumbledore smiled at him as if Ron were a student who had just answered a teacher's question correctly.

The old man skimmed the list. "There are some quite prominent people on this list and a few infamous ones, as well."

"A fish rots from the head down," Luna said. "Such conspiracies as well."

"Not all of them were part of the conspiracy," Granger pointed out. "Many merely switched allegiance to the new regime once the government had been toppled." With a deep scowl, she added: "And they proved to be far more skilled at murdering the innocent than they had been at battling the traitors."

"Murdering civilians is usually far easier than fighting terrorists," Dumbledore commented.

To Ron's relief, Luna didn't ask if the former spymaster had practical experience with both.

"In any case, I don't think we can cover all those people," the old man went on. "Although I trust that the police will be investigating all of Mr Yaxley's friends and family as a matter of course. According to my sources, they certainly have the resources to do so."

"They better," Harry mumbled, "or Moody will make them regret it."

"Officer Moody tends to leave an impression," Dumbledore said, nodding at Harry.

Did he know Moody, or just of Moody and was trying to appear more knowledgeable than he actually was? Ron couldn't tell.

"However, I think a few anonymous tips might point the police to possible allies of Mr Yaxley of whom they are as yet unaware." Dumbledore grinned. "And I expect that in a few cases, a little police attention might uncover something unrelated to the current scandal but nevertheless incriminating."

"Oh, include the Malfoys," Harry told him. "We've got two possible links to the family now."

"Which aren't reliable," Granger quickly pointed out again.

Harry shrugged. "As long as Malfoy gets into trouble, who cares?"

Ron nodded in agreement.

"If nothing comes of it, it might result in the source of said accusation losing their credibility," Granger retorted.

"Oh, don't fret about that, my dear," Dumbledore said in a patronising tone that set Ron's teeth on edge. "I'll make sure that it is stressed that the original source is untried, and that the only reason such untested intelligence is being passed along is the severity of the current situation. No actual source will be compromised by this, I can assure you of that."

Granger pressed her lips together - she was probably annoyed at the man's attitude as well - but she didn't contest his words. Not directly. "That presumes that Yaxley hasn't fled to his supposed backers."

"Indeed. Though they might be people whose counterparts are on your list," Dumbledore replied. "It's certainly a decent hypothesis and makes it well worth going through a few names on the list."

"As long as that's limited to investigating," Ron said, wondering how often the old man had given orders to eliminate someone, based purely on suspicion, with the same smile.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied, sounding so sincere, Ron almost believed him. But, after a moment, the old man continued: "More information about the people on the list might help us narrow down the number of likely suspects."

"It might also make you miss the real culprit based on preconceptions," Harry replied, cutting off Granger, who scowled at him.

"I can assure you that I know how to handle such information, Mr Potter. I've done so for decades." Dumbledore inclined his head. "In any case, with Mr Yaxley on the run, it shouldn't be too long before his plot is unravelled. However, you might be expected to give testimony as well."

"We are the key people in this case, I suppose," Granger acknowledged. "But can we afford to do that?"

"It would be more difficult for you to evade the various organisations who are already, and will become, interested in your work, should you talk to the police," Dumbledore told her.

"Dawlish would want to lock you up," Ron admitted. "And we'd be under investigation for a while."

Harry scoffed at that.

"And the press would hound you," Luna added. "Unwittingly, or knowingly in some specifically despicable cases, working for the people pulling their strings!"

"The press can be far more easily handled than professionals," Dumbledore pointed out. "But without presenting yourself to your colleagues and fellow police officers investigating this affair, you might find it hard to be cleared, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley. Les absents ont toujours tort, n'est-ce pas?"

"The absent party is always to blame," Granger translated without being asked.

"We learned French in school," Harry told her, sounding a little peeved.

"Sorry," she replied, looking a little embarrassed.

"In my experience, few English schools will teach you a foreign language to a competent level," Dumbledore interjected. "It's quite reasonable to assume that you might have forgotten what you learned since your A-levels. I certainly had to have private tutoring, and had to spend quite some time with a number of French refugees, before I mastered the language."

"Well, I don't speak French very well," Luna said. "So, thank you, Hermione." She beamed at the woman while Harry scowled.

"Anyway," Ron spoke up before Dumbledore could continue trying to divide them, "what shall we do now? Stay here until the laboratory in Scotland is ready?"

"I think Dr Granger's presence while it's being set up would be helpful. You know best what you need, after all, Dr Granger, and so you could have things arranged just how you like - within reason, of course. However, your entire group might be a little less than inconspicuous. It's not a serious threat - I trust the employees assigned to that task - but a slight risk would remain. And the threat of boredom, of course." Dumbledore spread his hands with a smile. "I understand, though, that you feel safer while staying together. I would as well, in your place."

Ron refrained from glaring at the old man. That was an obvious ploy. Make it sound logical to split up? Less trouble for everyone while Granger was alone with him and his men? On the other hand, Dumbledore would know that they would see through such an offer. So why would he make it? Just to appear more honest?

"Why would we be bored? I, for one, have never been to an actual black site!" Luna piped up with a wide grin.

Was Dumbledore's smile growing strained? Or was that what he wanted them to think? Ron couldn't tell. Not yet. "To Scotland, then?" he asked. "Or do you need a little more time to prepare lodgings for us?"

"That depends on how much comfort you expect," Dumbledore replied. "The current accommodations for staff are a little spartan, since the laboratory is not currently used for anything sensitive."

"We can rough it," Harry said at once.

Ron stopped himself from narrowing his eyes at Harry. His friend wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean they _had _to rough it. But Granger, who had been prepared to spend years in the wilderness, or so it seemed, would never disagree with that claim, and Luna was too eager to see the secret laboratory of a weapons research corporation. "We can go after we've spoken with Dad," he announced.

"Splendid!" Dumbledore beamed at them.

* * *

"You won't return to CI5, then."

Dad didn't sound thrilled - Ron could tell even through the phone. "No," he replied. "We'll be staying with Dr Granger. Too much has happened to leave her before the whole affair has been resolved."

"Isn't the main suspect on the run?"

"Yes. But we don't know who's backing him." Ron started pacing in his and Harry's room.

"Are you planning to investigate the case by yourself?"

"No. We'll be protecting Dr Granger." Although if they found a lead…

"CI5 won't like it. Your mother won't like it."

"Mum's always nagging me to stick with a girl," Ron joked, "and now that I'm doing it, it's not OK, either?"

Dad laughed, but it sounded forced. Then he sighed. "I'll tell her."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Be careful, Son."

"Always," Ron lied.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 13th, 2005**

It was an idyllic location Dumbledore had chosen for his - and probably Grindelwald's - secret lab in Britain. At least Ron thought so. A decent sized lake, surrounded by forests and hills, mountains rising a little further away. The closest village was an hour away by car - they had timed it when they had passed through on the way here, in Dumbledore's car. Quite isolated, indeed.

And well camouflaged - from here, the lab looked like an unassuming historic manor on the shores of the lake, probably built with stone taken from the nearby ruins. Spending time here might almost feel like a vacation. At least during summer - he wasn't keen on all the snow and ice that would replace the lush vegetation come winter.

"To think such a peaceful place hides a black lab!" Luna exclaimed next to him, shaking her head before she suddenly froze for a moment. "On the other hand, 'Black Lake' - it's almost a sign! Perhaps this is merely disinformation… or a double-bluff! We might need to explore the lake."

Ron checked, discreetly, once more that there were no microphones hidden nearby - or aimed at them. Their 'guide' was far back, out of hearing range, and they were too far away from the building itself - that was the reason they had taken a walk around the lake, after all. But it was the bug you didn't look for which would usually ruin your plans. So far he hadn't found anything, though. That didn't mean anything, of course.

"I'm more interested in how they managed to construct a lab here," Harry said, "without anyone noticing. There's only so much you can mask as 'renovations'."

"You can hide a lot," Ron told him. "And hardly anyone would bother to track the exact amount of building materials when there isn't a border crossing involved. Add a fake 'unstable shore' you need to stabilise with concrete, and you have a cover for a lot of excavation work as well. And an explanation for concrete walls under the soil."

"How cunning!" Luna nodded. "I should have known that English Heritage would be part of the conspiracy!"

Ron suppressed a chuckle - he knew she was serious. And, truth be told, he wasn't entirely certain English Heritage - or, rather, Historic Scotland in this case - wasn't involved. They visited a lot of old manors where the rich and powerful were often found. What better cover for a spy?

Granger was uncharacteristically silent. They had expected that, of course - ever since she had discovered their destination. And recognised it. She was staring at the house across the lake. No, at the hill behind it.

"So, that's where your boarding school was?" he asked, in a low voice. He hadn't found any microphones, and the odds of Dumbledore having bugged the entire area were slim, but it felt better to lower your voice.

"Yes," she replied, slowly nodding. "Over there. What a coincidence!"

He shrugged. He didn't think it was a coincidence. And he didn't think Granger thought so, either. "It might be a location that's important in every world," he said.

"Fixed points in geography?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "Adapted from Dr Who's fixed points in time?"

"Not quite, actually," he replied. "But there were similar concepts in some books I read."

"Fantasy books." She made it sound as if they were pornography.

"Yes. About magic and dimensional travel." He didn't hide his smirk overly well when she pursed her lips.

"If that's true, then this might be an ideal location for my work."

He blinked. She wasn't dismissing it out of hand?

Before he could say anything, though, she rolled her eyes. "I'm not so stubborn as to reject a decent hypothesis without testing," she said.

"Only nearly as stubborn, then?" he asked, grinning.

She snorted. "Not as nearly as you are annoying," she shot back - her grin taking the sting out of her words. Most of it, at least.

He laughed. "I try my best." After a moment, he added: "My counterpart wasn't fond of reading?"

She frowned at him. "Why would you say that?"

"You always seem a little surprised when I mention my hobby."

"Ah." She nodded. "He wasn't an avid reader - unless it involved Quidditch. But we all had to read a lot for school. I can't judge him for choosing not to spend the rest of his free time on reading."

But perhaps she had done so anyway? Should he ask? It was a sensitive topic - almost everything about Granger's home world was.

"Did Ginny and Luna's counterparts fight?" Harry asked before Ron could find the right words.

"They weren't in a front-line cell," Granger replied.

"But they fought," Harry went on. Ron saw he was clenching his teeth. How long had his friend been wanting to ask?

"Luna helped her father run an underground newspaper," Granger said. "I told you that already."

"Yes, you did!" Luna piped up.

"And Ginny?" Harry's jaw was set - he wouldn't leave this alone, Ron knew.

"Helped Luna and others, mostly as a courier."

That sounded rather dangerous. "Courier?" Ron asked.

"On her broom. She's an excellent flyer. Everyone said she'd fly for a professional team after school - if not for the war."

Ah, yes. Flying brooms. Granger had mentioned them, but Ron still had trouble accepting that they were real. Brooms.

"She wasn't trying to smuggle weapons through roadblocks and past patrols, if you were imagining such things," Granger went on.

"No. She was just trying to outfly patrols in the sky," Harry retorted. "As a sixteen-year-old."

"She fought Death Eaters at fifteen. As did Luna," Granger replied matter-of-factly - which Ron thought was a front since he could see that she was tense. "Harry killed a possessed wizard when he was eleven. Ginny was possessed at eleven. She almost killed several students, myself included, and was nearly sacrificed in a dark ritual before Harry and Ron saved her." She nodded towards the hill on the other side of the lake. "It happened right there. At school."

What the hell! "You didn't mention that before," Ron said, frowning at her.

She shrugged. "I prefer to remember the good times," she told them with a smile. "I was happy at Hogwarts."

"Even with all the fights and the war?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"The war really started after we had left Hogwarts."

Which said a lot about how much worse it must have gotten, Ron realised.

"It was a civil war," she said with a sad-looking smile, "with all that entails. Death squads were hunting down anyone who might resist the new regime - and anyone who had been born to the wrong parents - while the government covered the country with its vile propaganda, riling up the majority of the population against the minorities. And we - the Order - fought back with everything we had, using every dirty trick we knew. We had to. Defeat meant death, or worse."

Ron wasn't about to ask what she meant by 'worse'. He had a pretty good idea.

"Sounds like the partisans in World War Two, just with magic," Harry remarked.

"It's an apt comparison. The Death Eaters classified people like the Nazis did - purebloods, half-bloods and 'mudbloods'. And they planned to murder all those of 'tainted blood'." She scoffed with an expression of loathing on her face.

"And we're currently staying in a building co-owned by a supposedly former Nazi spy." Harry was looking at Granger out of the corners of his eyes while facing the lake, Ron noticed.

"You agreed that it was the best option," Granger replied. She sounded rather defensive.

"We all did," Ron said before Harry could reply.

"Yes." Luna nodded emphatically. "We knew the risks! And we have a goal! Exposing the truth about their secret arms research! And getting Hermione home."

Harry frowned but nodded. "As long as you can handle it."

"I've handled worse," she told him. "Besides, in this world, I'm not a member of a persecuted minority."

"That's not true," Luna pointed out. "You're the only witch in our world, and witches were and are persecuted."

Granger seemed at a loss for words, Ron noticed. He chuckled at her expression. "So… let's finish our walk?" They were about halfway around the lake, after all.

"Yes," Granger quickly agreed, then led them on.

"Was all this part of the school?" Luna asked a few minutes later.

"It belonged to Hogwarts, but it wasn't part of the school proper," Granger replied. "That means it wasn't protected by the school's defences, either, though we had an actual path to walk around the lake, not a trail."

"Ah."

"We didn't really leave the castle that often, apart from visiting the village on special weekends, and, in summer, spending time at the lake. The Forbidden Forest was dangerous - hostile centaurs, a pack of magic wolves, an entire colony of Acromantulas…"

"Acromantulas?"

"Giant, intelligent, man-eating spiders."

Ron shuddered and eyed the forest she had indicated. There were no magic creatures, much less spiders, here. Giant spiders would collapse under their own weight without magic. Or suffocate. It was… Damn. He pressed his lips together: "Remember: No testing the Shrinking Solution out here."

"I'm not wasting an irreplaceable resource for your amusement," Granger told him with a huff.

"The thought of being a tiny human surrounded by dangerous animals that would be giant-sized in comparison isn't particularly amusing," he retorted.

"Oh." She blinked, then shrugged. "It's a moot point, anyway - if we're forced to use our escape plan, we won't care about a possible threat by animals."

Ron disagreed on principle, but it wasn't worth making an issue out of it.

"Did you often go swimming?" Luna asked after a moment.

"Occasionally. Not too often - most of the year, it was too cold for that. Also, the lake was the home of a village of merpeople," Granger replied. "And they were territorial."

Her expression told Ron that this was another sore subject. He shook his head - despite all that, she wanted to go back. She was too stubborn for her own good.

* * *

By the time they returned to the laboratory, it had started to rain, though it was barely more than a drizzle - not enough to require an umbrella. It still felt nice to get out of it, of course.

"Welcome back," the head of the facility's security greeted them with all the warmth of a robot.

Another difference to Granger's world, Ron thought. Argus Filch had been her school's janitor. And a 'squib' - someone born to a wizard family, but lacking the talent for magic. He had been 'understandably embittered by his treatment in Wizarding Britain', as Granger had explained. This Filch, though, didn't seem embittered at all. Just cold. And he was carrying at least two guns.

And Ron was certain that the middle-aged man knew how to use them. He had the look of a veteran soldier. Or a career criminal.

"Would you like a tour of the projected lab area?" Filch asked.

"Yes, please," Granger, predictably, replied at once.

"Are you coming along?" Filch asked, tilting his head fractionally towards them.

"Of course!" Luna piped up, pulling out her notebook.

Harry and Ron nodded. They had to stick together here. Granger was correct in assuming that if Dumbledore wished them harm, he didn't have to go to these lengths to get them to lower their guard, but Ron didn't trust the old man not to pull something underhanded.

After all, situations and plans changed all the time.

"Follow me, please," Filch said, then turned and led them towards the lifts in the back. The man didn't seem concerned about being attacked from behind, so he was either very trusting, convinced Harry and Ron wouldn't suddenly turn on Dumbledore or had someone covering him.

Ron hadn't spotted a hidden shooter or guard, yet, but he didn't take Filch for the overly trusting type - someone like Dumbledore wouldn't have hired the man as head of security if he were. Well, neither would Ron in Dumbledore's place. That didn't mean Ron would trust either of the two men.

They entered the lift - which, Ron noted, had doors with a much better seal than regular lifts, and larger air ducts as well - and descended to the basement. About two and a half floors, Ron guessed.

The doors opened with a slight hiss - overpressure in the shaft? That was a thing in a number of books Ron had read - and entered a room that seemed to cover the entire footprint of the building.

"It's pretty bare right now, but furniture's on the way. And the generators are in working order," Filch announced, pointing towards three huge generators in the corner.

Granger looked impressed for a moment before she schooled her features. "That looks like it'll cover my power needs - provided you can keep them fueled. And soundproofed."

"That won't be a problem. We have ample storage capacity," Filch replied.

Which, of course, begged the question of what Dumbledore had been planning to do with this building before he had offered it to Granger. Ron studied the floor for a moment. It was freshly cleaned - no dust on it. But there were scratches on the floor, and the generators had been here for a while.

"What did you use this room for before turning it into Hermione's lab?" Luna asked. "Advanced weapons research?"

"I'm not privy to that information," Filch deflected her question with an utterly bland expression.

Luna frowned at him, pouting. "Really? Wouldn't it be part of your duties as security chief to know that? How could you protect the staff otherwise, if anything went wrong?"

"We've got procedures for everything," Filch replied.

"Everything? Even spills of radioactive mutagens?" Luna asked.

"Yes." Filch's grin was anything but friendly, and even Luna seemed taken aback - for a moment.

She perked up at once. "So there are such compounds!"

"I didn't say that," Filch back-pedalled. "Director Dumbledore has a sometimes eccentric sense of humour."

"I bet!" Luna replied, nodding several times. She was still taking notes, of course. And if Filch thought that that was the end of it… Well, he didn't know her as well as Ron did.

"Alright. With the generators there, and this much power…" Granger was walking through the room, pacing it. "The quantum mirror cage needs to be here." She pointed at a spot on the ground. "Otherwise, it might be influenced by the magnetic fields of the generators. And I'll need ample free space around it, with walls here and here. Office space, two standard desks, three filing cabinets, the best computer you can buy - here."

"And a cot or two, for quick naps," Ron added with a grin.

She blinked, then nodded. "Excellent idea!" Turning to Filch, she went on: "Yes, I need a bed here as well."

"You have quarters above."

"Yes. But sometimes, I'll want to take a nap without leaving the lab and wasting time," she retorted. "There's enough space for a good bed."

"Alright." Filch sounded bland as before, but Ron thought he caught a glimpse of annoyance in the man's eyes.

Ron grinned behind the man's back. Granger had that effect if you didn't know her well. But she grew on you. Well, probably not on Filch. Ron still didn't have the man's measure - could be a former spy, former soldier or former criminal - but he was pretty sure that the man would never like being ordered around by a girl half his age, no matter her brilliance.

"So, how long will it take to get the lab up and running?" he asked, making a point of looking around the bare room.

"Two weeks, as far as I know," Filch replied. "I'm no expert, though."

"As soon as the computers arrive, I can start working. Most of the heavier equipment is required for practical experiments, but there's still some theoretical work to be done. However, even that sort of research will involve experiments at some point," Granger said. "You'll have to be careful, though, or some of the specialised equipment will lead others to us."

"That's being handled." Filch didn't quite snap, but it was obvious that he wanted to tell Granger off for telling him how to do his job.

Granger, though, either missed that or ignored it. "Good. Now, we'll also need to purchase some personal effects. Books, clothes, those sorts of things."

"Just give us a list," Filch told her.

"Oh, free stuff!" Luna exclaimed - as if she'd trust anything purchased by Dumbledore's agents without checking it thoroughly first. "What about conjugal visits?"

"What?"

"Conjugal visits, you know, when your spouse…"

"I know what they are!" Filch snapped. A possible hint that he had been in prison, perhaps?

"Good!" Luna continued, seemingly unflappable. "It only concerns Harry right now, but any one of us might find a life partner in the future, so how's that being handled?"

"Not by a list, I hope," Harry added with a grin.

"This is a secure site. No visitors are allowed."

"So we'll have to go out to meet our respective and prospective sexual partners? I guess it's traditional - many people go clubbing for that purpose…" Luna pulled on her lower lip with the fingers of her left hand.

Ron smirked - behind Filch's back. Luna was a treat, even though he couldn't tell how serious she was right now, either. But that was part of her charm.

"Clubbing?" Filch blinked.

"Yes. Young people - and we are still young by most sane definitions - often go clubbing. The nightclub and dance venue thing. Not the killing baby seals thing, you know."

"That's a security risk."

"That's why we're asking you as the Head of Security," Luna went on. Her tone added a clearly understood, if silent, 'you dummy' to her sentence.

Ron glanced at Granger. She was not even bothering to hide her own smirk, he noticed.

He approved.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 14th, 2005**

"Allons enfants de la Patrie-i-i-e! Le jour de gloire est arrivé!"

Luna was in better shape than Ron had expected. Even after a light jog - or, for half the route, a more or less quick march - halfway around the lake, she still had enough breath to sing the French national anthem. Granger, however, could barely keep up, Ron noticed.

He called a break. "Let's rest a little."

Granger collapsed on the grass, chest heaving. "I need to get in better shape," she wheezed.

"Yes," Harry told her in a flat voice, which earned him a glare. She didn't say anything, though. Just pulled on the black top of her sweatsuit to let more air through and fiddled with the straps on the backpack containing her magic bag.

Luna sat down next to her. Her own sweatsuit bore all the colours of the rainbow - she had, apparently, managed to find one that had been used in a paintball match with stains that hadn't come out in the wash. At least Harry and Ron had sensible grey sweatsuits. "We need to tell Mr Miller to pick a menu in honour of the fourteenth of July," she said. "Something French."

"Last I checked, most of his menus were based on French cuisine," Granger remarked.

"Well, something extra-French, then," Luna replied, undaunted. "Dinner was excellent."

Ron nodded. He preferred his chips thick and with vinegar. But the pommes frites had been tasty. And the filets…

"Don't drool," Harry said, in a dry voice.

Ron frowned at his friend. "Mum's a much better cook."

"Of course she is. But that doesn't mean that the food here's bad."

"The Mrs Weasley I knew cooked much better, too," Granger cut in.

"You'll have to visit Mum and Dad," Ron said without thinking, "so you can compare their meals."

"I'd love to," Granger replied before blinking. "Well, if it's possible one day," she added, "without endangering your family, of course."

"Of course," Ron said, nodding.

"You'll have to visit when Molly's making her roast," Luna told her.

"She'll do requests when Ron's bringing a girl." Harry chuckled.

Ron frowned at him, then started to stretch. Although Harry wasn't entirely wrong - Mum went all-out if any of her boys brought home a girl. Which was part of the reason none of Ron's brothers had yet married.

Granger was stretching too, now. Though she wasn't doing it right, he noticed. He stopped and went over to her. "You need to lean in more," he told her.

"What?"

"You need to lean in more." He demonstrated. "Like this."

"I'm trying," she snapped.

"Let me help." He reached out and adjusted her foot. "You won't twist it like this."

"Ah."

He ran her through a few more stretching exercises. She wasn't really in bad shape - Harry and Ron were simply in top shape. And Luna… well, Ron knew that she had kept up the running she had started when they were dating.

"Thank you," she said with a smile as they got ready for the second leg of their run. "You're good at that."

He nodded at the compliment. "You just lack endurance. That'll change soon enough."

She looked at him for a moment, lips pressed together, then started to run.

A little too fast to talk.

Although, as Luna demonstrated, not too fast to sing.

* * *

It was a good thing that the group needed to go on runs to talk freely, or Granger would probably never leave her room. Ron certainly hadn't even caught a glimpse of her since she had gone to her temporary office after lunch. Which made keeping guard in the 'lounge' down the hall leading to their rooms more than a little boring. Especially since the one seat with a good view down the hallway, and, therefore, of Granger's door, was a little too exposed for Ron's taste.

Dumbledore probably had several ways to deal with them without having them jumped by armed assailants, but Ron couldn't help wishing he had some cover. At least he had his back to a wall - which he had checked for concealed firing ports or other surprises, of course.

"You look bored!"

Luna had returned from her foray to the kitchen, carrying a big basket full of snacks. And sweets, knowing her.

"Guarding someone is almost never exciting," he told her.

"Unless things go really wrong, right?"

He nodded - these had been his words, after all. Years ago.

"Sandwich?" She pulled out what looked like a roast beef sandwich. White bread, fortunately - Ron wasn't a fan of the dark, sour bread the kitchen seemed to offer by default.

"Thanks."

"Even boring work is hungry work," she commented, letting herself fall into the seat next to him. "Harry's asleep?"

"Yes." Resting, at least.

"And Hermione's lost in her work." Luna shook her head. "Did you check that she's taking enough breaks?"

"I don't want to disturb her."

"You're not a good bodyguard, then." She was smiling at him as she quoted another line of his and grabbed a sandwich of her own. Tuna. Probably her own recipe - she had managed to get Mum to use that recipe, so hired cooks wouldn't stand a chance, in Ron's opinion.

"Circumstances were different back then," he replied. Luna had been working herself to the bone with her bunker project.

"Mhhh." She didn't look convinced.

"I'll step in once she starts falling asleep at the table." He grinned at her, remembering that incident. In hindsight, it was pretty funny.

"Does that mean you'll take her out on a date?" Luna leaned forward, finishing her sandwich in a few quick bites.

"What?" He blinked, then shook his head. "She's dating her Ron."

"Ah."

Or she had been - seven years was a long time. His counterpart might even be dead. Ron took another bite and forced the thought away. No sense dwelling on that sort of nonsense.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 15th, 2005**

The weather was cloudy, but it wasn't raining. Perfect for a morning run in summer. A cross-country run, of course - the best they had were trails in the forest parts of the route. Ron liked the challenge - running on a track was usually mind-numbing, unless you were competing.

Granger, though, wasn't enjoying the experience any more than their first run. "Do we need to run through the forest?" she complained at their first break. "I'm not fond of roots and other stumbling hazards."

"We need to vary our routes," Harry replied. "Otherwise, Dumbledore's men will bug them so they can listen to our conversations."

"Given enough time and resources, they could cover the entire area, eventually," Ron added, "but it's not yet an urgent problem."

Granger sighed. She looked tense, Ron noticed - tenser than yesterday. He stepped closer to her, ducking under a branch. "Bad memories?"

She pressed her lips together, which was answer enough.

* * *

_Hogwarts. From her spot at the edge of the forest, she could see the school on the hill across the lake. At night, the lake matched its name perfectly - it was pitch black, with the dim reflection of a few lights from the castle only emphasising its darkness. _

_For years, it had been her home. Hers and her friends'. But that had changed. It wasn't her home. Not any more. Muggleborns were banned from Hogwarts. McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, Vector… all the good teachers, everyone who opposed Voldemort's ideology, were gone. They had quit or disappeared. By all accounts, the school had been turned into a Death Eater training camp, with the half-bloods serving as the training dummies for the Dark Arts._

_She shuddered, remembering her time as a prisoner in Malfoy Manor. Her torture at the hands of… She shook her head, clenching her jaw. It was over. She was free. And Lestrange would never hurt anyone ever again._

_A sudden touch on her back made her gasp. But it was warm - a hand._

"_You don't have to come."_

_Ron. She slowly turned to face him. "I have to."_

"_Snape's sneaking us in. We just have to search the Room of Requirement. Harry and I can do that."_

"_We'll be faster with one more set of eyes. And one more wand." Even if it wasn't her original wand. Even if it had been used to torture her. But they needed her. They didn't have very much time to find the Horcrux._

"_Dobby could get elves to help. Hell, Snape could order some to help us."_

_She shook her head. "They can't help with the search." House-elves couldn't deal with Horcruxes. Couldn't even be near them without being corrupted. A second Kreacher would doom them all. "They can act as lookouts, nothing more. You need me."_

_He stared at her. Then he slowly nodded and hugged her._

_And for a moment, she was at peace._


	11. Chapter 11: The Dinner

As usual, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 11: The Dinner**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 16th, 2005**

"_Oh, Ron…"_

_He felt arms wrap around him from behind. A nude body pressed against his back. A chin on his shoulder, hair tickling his ear. Taking a deep breath, he smelt her scent. "Yes, love," he whispered, slowly turning around._

_Then they were on the bed, him on top of her. Kissing. Her bushy hair covering the pillow..._

Ron woke up, alone and feeling disoriented. Had he had _that_ sort of dream, featuring Granger? Bloody hell, he must have had a pint too many last night. No, he'd only had the one pint Luna had liberated from the kitchen. Had it been tampered with, perhaps? Luna was smart, but she wasn't exactly a master thief, so, odds were, the kitchen staff were aware of her 'pilfering'.

He blinked. His room looked the same. No trouble with his eyes. His sense of balance was fine, too.

He sighed. Well, it had been a while since his last relationship. Or one-night stand. His work made having a relationship a little difficult. And Granger was about the only woman with whom he'd been spending time lately. Apart from Luna, of course. And Luna was his ex.

Totally normal. Probably.

A shave and a shower later, he went to the lounge, which served as their 'private' dining room as well. Harry was already buttering a scone at the table.

"Morning," Ron said, sitting down and grabbing the teapot.

"Morning," Harry replied. He didn't look or sound too chipper, Ron noticed.

"Did you have trouble sleeping?" he asked.

His friend shook his head. "No."

That didn't sound convincing. But before Ron could think of a way to dig a little without making Harry mad, Luna arrived, Granger in tow. Literally - she was holding her hand and dragging her along, from the looks of it.

"Good morning!" Luna announced. "Oh, scones!"

"We had scones yesterday as well," Granger said, frowning. "Morning."

"That's no reason not to enjoy them!" Luna replied, grabbing two before she had taken a seat.

Granger snorted and looked around. Ron handed her the teapot - he knew what she wanted first thing in the morning.

She didn't look like she had in his dream, he noted. And not just because she was dressed. Her hair wasn't free, but up in her usual messy ponytail. And she was grumpy and growling, not moaning. But the way she stood fit. And the proportions seemed to match, as far as he could tell with her wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

"Is something wrong?"

Ron blinked. He had been staring at her! He quickly shook his head. "Oh, no. Just wondering if Luna dragged you out of bed to here."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and he saw her baring her teeth when she frowned at him.

"Oh, no, I would never do that!" Luna said. "Unless it was an emergency, of course. But I dragged her out of her room."

Fortunately, the news started on the TV in the lounge before Granger had enough tea to tell him off.

* * *

"_... and the Metropolitan Police have just confirmed that the main suspect in the murder and missing person case that culminated in a shoot-out leaving half a dozen dead in the middle of London a week ago is Chief Superintendent Corban Yaxley, a subordinate of Deputy Commissioner Rufus Scrimgeour and Commissioner Amelia Bones, the two murdered police officers. Officer Yaxley's current whereabouts are unknown, and he is considered armed and dangerous. Should you recognise him, do not confront him. Remove yourself to a safe place and inform the police at once."_

Ron snorted at the picture that illustrated the news report. Someone had found the most unflattering shot of Yaxley for the press release. "Finally!" he exclaimed. "It was about time…"

"Shhh!" Luna interrupted him, pressing a finger against her lips. "It's not finished yet!"

And, indeed, Granger's picture - quite a bit more flattering - appeared on the screen. "_There has been no news regarding the fate of missing scientist Dr Hermione Granger, though usually informed sources claim that she, like her parents, was in protective custody and that the police officers guarding her haven't yet come forward because Commissioner Bones warned them about possible moles in the force before her death. The Metropolitan Police have declined to comment."_

"Anyone want to bet Dumbledore had a hand in how quickly they changed their tunes about us?" Harry asked. "We've gone from 'suspicious police officers with a troublesome past' to 'diligent bodyguards'."

"That's a fool's bet," Luna replied. "The question should be: Who arranged for you to come under suspicion in the first place?"

Ron shrugged. "Wouldn't take much. We've made our share of enemies. Both in the police and outside." And they had some - minor - incidents on their files which someone could blow out of proportion.

"The Skeeter I knew," Granger said, "thrived on this sort of scandal-mongering. And she'd do it just to sell more newspapers. Completely amoral."

"Our version is a little more careful," Ron pointed out. "And her name didn't appear to be connected to the news reports."

"That doesn't have to mean anything. She could already be writing a new book, and any scandal centred on you would help with advertising," Luna said.

Ron could imagine that. On the other hand, Dumbledore probably had a lot more influence - and Ron couldn't tell what the old man might think would serve his goals best: them being fully cleared or them remaining under suspicion. Both situations had their advantages and drawbacks.

He'd have to gather more intel about Dumbledore - and about Grindelwald.

But first, he had to talk to Harry. His friend was… looking happy now? Ron suppressed a frown. Talking to Harry without anyone listening would be a little tricky. "Better eat a light meal," he told Granger and the others, "we have our morning run to do."

Granger groaning he had expected. Luna's lack of enthusiasm he hadn't. "But it's raining!" she protested.

"Fitness doesn't care about the weather," he replied.

"Fitness does care about getting a cold!" Luna retorted. "And it's raining."

"There's no bad weather, only unsuitable clothing," Ron told her.

"That was Percy's line when he chased us out of your home to play," Harry said. "And you know he only did that so we wouldn't bother him when he had Penny over."

Ron hadn't known it back then, of course. "That doesn't make it wrong," he pointed out. He wasn't about to wink; Harry already knew why he wanted to go on a run. "Besides, since we don't know what we'll face once Dr Granger finishes her portal, it only makes sense to be physically fit. Just in case."

That convinced her; he could see her pressing her lips together as she inclined her head. She didn't like it, but she saw sense. But then she suddenly frowned. "You plan on coming with me?"

Of course. "Yes. We're your bodyguards, aren't we?" he added, to sound less pushy.

"And I'll come because I'm your friend!" Luna piped up. "And because I want to meet my counterpart! It'll be fascinating! Like having a twin sister! And a second Daddy! We'll be a whole family!"

Ron suppressed a wince - the loss of her mum was still hurting her and her dad. He was almost glad her counterpart had lost her mum as well - if there was a Pandora Lovegood in Granger's world, Luna might not want to come back.

Like Granger, he thought, pressing his lips together. Her family and friends were waiting for her. Or so she hoped. And her world, in more than one sense.

"Let's meet outside in five minutes," he said, finishing his tea. A fast run was just the thing to clear his mind of these depressing thoughts.

* * *

"So… what was so important that you had to run them into the ground?" Harry asked in a low voice behind Ron as they stretched.

Ron felt a little guilty - and dirty - as he glanced at Luna and Granger. They had collapsed and lain down on the grass in the small clearing where they had taken their first break, uncaring of the drizzle hitting their faces as they struggled to recover their breath. "Technically, they did that to themselves, trying to keep up," he defended himself. The pace Ron had set had been challenging, indeed - for him and Harry.

"Yeah, right. As if we'd let them run at their own pace by themselves," Harry replied.

Ron cleared his throat. "What are you going to do now that we're about to be cleared?" he asked, changing the subject.

Harry shrugged. "What we agreed on: staying with Granger. And Luna, now."

"I didn't mean that," Ron said. Though it was nice to have confirmation that there hadn't been a change of plans. "Will you be meeting Ginny?"

"That wouldn't be smart," Harry replied.

Ron snorted. He knew an evasive answer when he heard one.

Harry glared at him. "I want to, but it would endanger our cover."

"Well, she's pretty famous," Ron remarked. Which was a slight understatement. And which was, in hindsight, a little odd. "I wonder why the newspapers didn't bother her about the affair."

"She's probably gone to ground," Harry said. "But they should have mentioned her, you're right."

Ron muttered a curse under his breath. "Do you think Dad got Dumbledore to pull some strings?"

"We'd have to ask him."

"You're training in dodging today, I see," Ron remarked. He ignored Harry glaring at him again.

"I want to see Ginny. Happy now?" his friend spat.

"Well, we should be able to arrange that, once we're fully cleared and Yaxley's caught."

Harry scoffed. "That would be putting her in danger. Whoever's behind Yaxley will follow her. And even if Dumbledore manages to protect her, it would mean that he's got more leverage on us."

That was true, Ron knew. But he also knew that it didn't really matter. "He already has Dad in his pocket. And do you think he wouldn't offer to arrange for Ginny to visit us if he thinks it'll make us feel indebted to him?"

Harry's curse would have even gotten Mum, who adored the bloke and still saw the poor orphan boy Harry hadn't really been, to scold him.

"So, might as well meet her anyway - she'll be furious if she thinks you didn't want to meet her," Ron told him.

Harry scoffed again, but Ron caught a faint smile on his face as they went to get Granger and Luna so they could continue their run.

At the second break, near the shore - not planned, but necessitated by the pace Ron had set at the start - Granger approached him. "Did you have to run us into exhaustion just so you could talk privately with Harry?"

He didn't try to deny it. She wouldn't buy it. "When did you figure it out?" he asked, instead.

"Just now," she admitted. She looked a little embarrassed, but after running three-fourths of the route, she was red-faced from the exertion, so he couldn't tell if she was also blushing.

"Ah."

"Couldn't you have just told us that you wanted to have a private talk?"

That made him feel embarrassed. "Now that you mention it, yes. I could have."

"And why didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Habit. I grew up with six nosy siblings. Fred and George were especially bad - still are, actually, just in case you ever meet them - so if I'd told them I wanted to have a private talk with Harry, they'd have gone to even greater lengths to listen in. And you and Luna would behave more naturally if you didn't know the reason for the run."

"More naturally out here, where we weren't under surveillance?"

He grinned at her. "Would you believe me if I told you that I was taught to pay attention to the smallest detail when creating a cover story?"

"Yes."

Right, she knew Moody's counterpart. "Let's blame my instructor, then."

"As long as you don't repeat this stunt," she replied.

"Alright."

The looked at each other for a moment. Just long enough for the sudden silence to become awkward. "You should stretch," he told her. "You pushed yourself hard today."

"You pushed me," she retorted.

"As I recall, it was more like leading. I ran, and you followed. No pushing was involved - on my side."

She glared at him, then sniffed. "You told us to keep up."

"And you always do what you're told?"

"You are in charge of our training," she retorted.

"And now I'm telling you to stretch."

He could almost hear her jaw snap together and feel the heat from her glare. But she was stretching.

His smile slipped a little when he remembered what she had told him about 'accidental magic'. Perhaps he really shouldn't push her too much. Or lead her, in this case.

"I'll hold you responsible if I don't make as much progress in my work today as planned!"

A little late, but she had retorted, he noted. Well, he already knew that she was passionate and stubborn.

* * *

Too stubborn for her own good, Ron thought hours later, when he looked into her room and saw that Granger had fallen asleep at her desk, not on the bed right next to her. Shaking his head, he went in.

Once again, he noted how she looked softer when asleep. Usually, she was always pushing. Herself, or others. Driven. But when she was sleeping… He snorted. She wasn't drooling on her notes, but she had an ink smudge on her cheek.

He could tuck her in - she wasn't as slender as Luna was, but he wouldn't have any trouble lifting her, and the bed was right next to the desk. And she certainly needed the rest.

But it was dinner time, and she needed food as well. So he reached out and gently shook her shoulder. "Wake up!"

She didn't shoot awake but slowly opened her eyes, blinking and looking confused as she saw him. "Ron?"

He felt a small pang of guilt. And jealousy. "That's Officer Ron," he joked.

"Oh. Sorry. I was… Dear Lord, I fell asleep at the desk!" She started to check her notes, ignoring his reassurances that she hadn't ruined them.

He knew better than to stop her and waited until she had stashed the notes in her beaded bag. "It's time for dinner."

"What? Already?"

"A few minutes past dinner time, actually," he told her with a smirk.

"Why didn't…" She bit her lower lip, trailing off. "Let's go, then."

"After you, Dr Granger." He held the door open with an exaggerated flourish.

"Officer Weasley." She walked past with a curt nod and toss of her head that could have fit into a number of fantasy novels he had read.

Which reminded him. "Say, Dr Ganger…" he said as he followed her out of her room, "did you read a lot of fantasy when you were younger?"

She narrowed her eyes at him for a moment. He grinned - he wasn't talking about magic, even if he was skirting the line a little.

"I haven't read a fantasy book since I was eleven."

"Ah." He forced himself to look embarrassed and add: "Sorry" - Dumbledore would assume they were talking about her kidnapping, not her entering magic school.

"It's OK. It's in the past."

"Ever tried picking up the habit again? A lot has changed in the last ten years."

"I'm too busy for such diversions," she replied as they entered the lounge.

"Hi, Hermione! Ron, what took you so long?" Luna asked.

"I had to wake her up." That earned him another glare from Granger and a giggle from Luna, but it was worth it to shut down any off-colour jokes about needing a chaperone from Harry before his friend could make them.

It wasn't like that, anyway. A wet dream didn't mean anything. Certainly not at his age.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 17th, 2005**

Ron groaned after waking up. A second wet dream involving Granger didn't mean anything, either. Other than that he was probably going stir-crazy. Which a good run would help with. Should. The shower wouldn't help, though. Too close to the dream. Perhaps a cold shower… Yes.

He nicked himself while shaving, his concentration broken when he had a disturbing thought: Was this perhaps some 'bleed over' from her Ron? Some connection across the dimensions? A psychic or magical link? Granger had mentioned something about Harry - her Harry - being tied to the Dark Lord, hadn't she?

He'd have to ask her for more details. Without letting her know the reason. After breakfast. Well, the light breakfast they took before the run.

* * *

His chance came an hour later, at their break. He hadn't set a punishing pace this time, but he hadn't gone easy on her, either. So she wasn't exhausted but still needed a short break. He watched her stretch - correctly, as he had shown her - then glanced around. Harry and Luna were a little too close. "Did anyone spot a bug? The electronic kind," he clarified.

"Oh! You think they started hiding them in the forest?" Luna perked up. "That would be just like a corporation built on blood! Spying on people and harming the environment at the same time!" She got up from where she had made a 'grass snow angel' and started to look around for listening devices.

Harry sent him a look, and Ron nodded at Luna, then at Granger. His friend shook his head at him but turned to follow Luna, as Ron had known he would. Which left Ron to talk to Granger in peace.

"I thought you said you wouldn't try such stunts any more." She wasn't amused.

"I didn't. You didn't have any trouble keeping up, did you?"

She scoffed. "You would make a good lawyer, weaselling your way through loopholes."

He ignored the barb at his name - after seven years in the same school as Malfoy, there weren't many insults that he hadn't heard often enough to grow bored of them. "Knowing how to bend the rules is essential to be an effective police officer."

"I notice that you didn't say 'a _good _police officer'."

He shrugged with a grin. "We get results."

"And your colleagues don't, I guess. Yaxley is still at large, after all." Her smile wasn't that friendly.

"He might be already dead, the body dissolved in acid. Or dropped into wet cement."

"Do you think so?" She changed positions, hands on the trunk and bending her knee while stretching her other leg.

He shook his head. "No. He's too smart for that. If he were that dumb, he wouldn't have been in CI5 for this long. If he's really smart, he'll be on some tropical island by now, with a fake ID and some dirty money he's laundered."

"His counterpart wasn't very smart."

"Which is why I don't think he left Britain," Ron said. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you something."

"Something you don't want anyone to overhear." She nodded. "Go ahead."

"You said Harry's counterpart was tied to Voldemort through his scar."

She pursed her lips and stopped stretching. "I didn't exactly say that."

"Cursed scar, ties to the Dark Lord, fated to face him…" He smiled at her glare.

"Yes."

"Did that happen to others?" he asked.

"I've never heard of another case - but few would have made such an event public." She shrugged a little, then rubbed her shoulders. "Why do you want to know?"

"I was wondering if someone could have a tie to their counterpart. It would be a huge security risk if one of our enemies had such a source of information."

"Oh." She nodded. "That would be a problem. Although most of the people who could do us much harm were dead when I left - or are dead here."

"That didn't stop the Dark Lord, did it?"

"He was a special case. And he had a link to Harry through his cursed scar." She smiled thinly. "In order to duplicate that feat, a dark wizard would have to curse someone from this world. And if they could do that, they would be here - and would have used magic against us already."

"Ah." That was comforting. In a morbid way. "Are prophetic dreams real in your world?"

She frowned at that. "No. Divination is nonsense. Real prophecies are very, very rare."

She sounded quite invested in this, he noticed. "Speaking from experience?"

"No," she spat. "Or, yes, sort of - I took Divination until I realised it was nonsense. Harry and Ron - my friends - took it as well, and they made up all their dreams and visions, and the teacher never noticed."

"Ah." Ron smiled. It was reassuring to hear that he wasn't being influenced by the soul or spirit or psychic echo of Granger's lover.

But that meant that he dreamed of her because he was attracted to her or because he was so randy, his subconscious was fixating on the closest woman.

Neither was a very reassuring thought.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 18th, 2005**

Ron had to hand it to Dumbledore: The man had kept his word. At least to Granger - she was currently ordering a dozen men and women around in order to get her new lab set up just as she wanted it. Like a queen ruling her realm.

"No, no - that terminal needs to be all the way back at the wall. Move it!"

"Hey! Stop that - that needs to be in the exact centre of the room. And you! Don't drill a hole there!"

"What did I say about the computers? You need to run their power lines around the room, not through the centre! The magnetic field they could produce might ruin an experiment otherwise!"

A queen that might be inciting a revolution among her subjects - Granger wasn't the most diplomatic woman on a good day, and this wasn't a good day. Too much stress. Ron shook his head as he leaned against the wall next to the entrance to the lab. Perhaps he'd have to act as a bodyguard and protect her from angry workers. Workers, he reminded himself, who Dumbledore trusted to keep a secret - they weren't just the hired help. And they weren't used to being micromanaged, either.

Granger glowered at the last worker she had addressed, then walked over to Ron, sighing. "This will take longer than planned," she said. "I didn't expect that I would need to explain everything twice. Dumbledore should have sent people who can follow directions!"

Ron glanced around, but they were far enough away that, with the noise from the drills and other power tools, no one seemed close enough to overhear her. "They are experienced employees," he told her, "and they're probably used to just getting told what they have to do, not how to do it."

"Hmph. That only works if they know what they need to do. And they don't! I'm the physicist here!"

He shrugged. "It's not their fault - you are breaking new ground, aren't you? I doubt that most physicists would know what you need." And she was planning to use magic as well.

She frowned, but then bit her lower lip. "I guess I might have been a little too harsh."

"A little bit." He didn't quite grin at her, but judging by her scowl, his tone had given his thoughts away.

She huffed and turned to look at the workers in the centre of the room.

"Not going to apologise?" he asked.

"No."

"Ah." He shouldn't have taken such a condescending tone. But he couldn't resist.

She glanced at him with her lips pressed together. After a moment, she sighed again. "I might have been a little rude, but it wouldn't have happened if they had been following my instructions to the letter."

"And you don't want to admit that you were also in the wrong," he replied.

She huffed and went to her temporary desk without another word.

Watching her go and shuffle paper, he felt both satisfied and disappointed. And a little bit guilty.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 19th, 2005**

"Someone important is coming to visit," Harry said as they approached the building on their morning run.

"Either Dumbledore or Grindelwald - or both," Ron agreed. They were running at a quite comfortable pace; Granger would be insufferable if he ran her into the ground right when she was about to finish her new lab. More insufferable.

"What?" Granger asked.

"There are more guards than usual, and Filch was up already, inspecting his crew," Ron explained. "And weren't the workers in your lab making more of an effort yesterday evening?"

She didn't answer that. He hadn't expected her to, either - she hadn't talked to him much since yesterday. The woman could hold grudges. "Ah," she said after a moment.

"Oh, the spymaster returns!" Luna cut in, blurting out a sentence per breath while she ran. "Will he arrive in a submarine? Did you have magical submarines, Hermione?"

"No, we didn't. There were spells which let you breathe underwater. We had a giant squid, though."

"A giant squid?" Ron blurted out. He hadn't heard about that. Was she taking the mickey?

"Really?"

"Don't squids need salt water?" Harry asked.

"Normally, yes," Granger replied. "This was an exception. He served as a lifeguard when the first-years used the boats."

"What?" Ron shuddered. To be dragged out of the water by a giant tentacle with suction cups...

"Oh!" Luna exclaimed. "Was he sapient or just well-trained?"

"I don't know," Granger replied. "It's sometimes hard to tell with magical creatures. Or with some wizards and witches," she added and Ron could hear her smirk.

"Your school was crazy," he told her.

"Yes, it was," she agreed.

And she was missing it anyway. Ron felt guilty again. But they reached the building, and there was no more time to talk about magic.

* * *

Ron frowned at the mirror as he adjusted his tie. Unlike the suit he was wearing, which fit him well, the tie was proving a little difficult to handle. His first attempt had resulted in the tie being too short, the next had left it too long.

He snorted. Why did he care about the length of his tie? They were in a secret lab, not at a gala. And it wasn't as if he were wearing a tailor-made suit, either.

But he wanted to look good. With the effort being spent on this dinner - suits had been provided for Harry and himself, dresses for Granger and Luna - he didn't want to look like he shouldn't be there. Mum and Dad had raised him better than that. It wasn't the money, but the manners - something Malfoy had never wanted to accept.

And Ron didn't want to look bad next to Harry, who cut a dashing figure in a suit, as he knew from experience. And from Ginny's pictures and stories.

His tie finally adjusted, he brushed a piece of lint from his shoulder, checked if his guns were showing - they weren't - and left his room.

Harry was already waiting in the lounge, looking sharp, as Ron had expected. And grumpy, too. "What a load of… whatever," his friend complained. "We look like we're going to a ball. We're even waiting for the girls. It's just a dinner invitation."

"Did you ever tell Ginny what you think about balls?" Ron asked with a faint smirk.

"Do I look like I'm a fool?" Harry shot back.

Ron chuckled. "Well…"

His friend rolled his eyes. "She loves them."

Indeed, Ron's sister liked being the centre of attention. As the youngest of his siblings, and the only girl, she was used to being treated like a princess. And becoming a - minor - celebrity in her own right hadn't exactly helped there.

Harry, though, loathed balls. Ron's friend was frowning at him, he noticed. "We don't go to many balls," he said.

"Unless you count fancy parties as well," Ron pointed out.

"Those are different."

"Just because there are no formal dances?"

"Yes."

Ron was about to point out that those dances were what little princess Ginny loved the most at balls, but then Luna and Granger finally appeared in the hallway.

He blinked and almost whistled. Granger cleaned up really well. Luna, too, of course, but he already knew that. But Granger almost seemed like a different person in her little black number instead of her usual clothes. Sensible shoes, he noted - not flats, but the high heels weren't too high. And nice legs. Even her hair looked nice, framing her face in soft waves instead of being tied back in a bushy ponytail.

"You two look nice!" Luna announced. "Don't they, Hermione?"

Granger nodded, a little stiffly, Ron thought, as she said: "Yes, one could say that." She did seem a little too self-conscious for the occasion. "I guess Dumbledore wants us to make a good impression."

"Well, you'll certainly succeed at that," Ron told her. "Both of you," he quickly added, ignoring Harry's snort.

"Indeed," his friend remarked.

"I would prefer to impress people with my mind," Granger replied.

"You can be pretty and smart," Luna said. "Don't let old men - and some young ones - tell you otherwise! That false dichotomy is just another tool of the conspiracy to divide us!"

Ron cleared his throat before Luna could go into details - her unhappy experiences at school hadn't been solely because of blonde stereotypes, but they had certainly contributed. "So, shall we?" He offered Granger his arm without thinking, and, for a moment, both of them seemed to freeze.

Then she took his arm. "Let's go, then."

As they walked down the hallway towards the lift, he kept an eye out - and one on her. "Say…"

"Yes?"

"Did you adjust the dress?" She'd know that he meant 'with magic'.

"No, I didn't," she replied. "I don't have the necessary tools, even if I wanted to alter a dress."

Ah. "It fits you perfectly," he pointed out. And it looked nice on her, which didn't matter, of course.

"Thank you." She flashed him a smile - a pleased smile. She didn't understand.

"As if it had been tailor-made for you," he went on.

"Oh." Now she got it.

He nodded. How had Dumbledore's men managed to get her sizes without her - or him - noticing?

"I guess my tailor's computer security is poor," she said.

"You had dresses tailored for you?" Ron asked before he could help himself.

She frowned at him. "Once. At my... family's request. For a celebration."

"Ah."

"I don't see the need to spend more money on tailor-made clothes," she continued.

"I didn't think you would."

And there was the glare he was so familiar with - until she suddenly laughed.

He blinked. Oh. "What did my counterpart do?" he asked.

"You don't want to know," she said, with a slightly sad-looking smile.

But Ron did want to know. Very much, actually. Even though he didn't know why.

* * *

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," Dumbledore greeted them as they entered what Ron had overheard the staff call 'the Presidential Suite'. "May I introduce you to my dear friend Gellert Grindelwald?"

"Good evening." The other man in the room, which was quite a bit bigger than their lounge, nodded at them as he stepped closer.

Ron looked him over. Dumbledore had a slight paunch, but Grindelwald made him look almost fat; the former German spy was rail-thin. And looked tough as leather - a far cry from his jovial partner.

"Mr Potter. Mr Weasley." The man met Ron's eyes but seemed to dismiss him at once, focusing on Granger. "Dr Granger. I've been looking forward to making your acquaintance." He had a slight German accent. Probably put-on, Ron thought - a spy turned CEO would have learnt perfect English, especially if living with Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Mr Grindelwald." Granger looked and sounded composed and polite, Ron noticed.

"Gellert's been badgering me to arrange this visit," Dumbledore cut in with his usual smile.

"It's a fascinating tale. And a priceless opportunity," Grindelwald said, nodding. His lips twisted slightly, subtly signalling some doubt.

For all her occasional lack of social graces, Granger, of course, had to pick up on that. She was probably used to people at Imperial doubting her. Ron saw her raise her chin and frown at the German. "I will deliver what I promised."

"Don't you trust your partner's judgement, Mr Grindelwald?" Luna spoke up. She was frowning as well, and much more noticeably, with an added pout.

"Trust but verify, Miss Lovegood," Grindelwald replied with a slight sneer.

"Words to live by," Dumbledore cut in. "Shall we sit down? I've found that most meetings run more smoothly if people are more comfortable. And I have it on good authority that our meal deserves to be eaten at a proper table." He smiled, seemingly unfazed by the latent hostility, and gestured towards the table in the back.

As soon as they had taken their seats, a waitress started serving the hors d'oeuvres - bite-sized meat pies. Quite delicious, as Ron discovered.

"One of the few pieces of English cuisine of which Gellert ever grew fond," Dumbledore commented.

His friend snorted. Once. Ron wasn't sure whether that was affected as much as the man's accent - Ron knew the stereotypes about Germans - or if it was genuine.

"My compliments to the chef," Granger said. Luna signalled her agreement with an appreciative noise.

Ron nodded. "It's very tasty."

Dumbledore beamed at them, though Grindelwald soon did his best to ruin the mood again: "While Albus, as usual, deduced a great deal, I do think it all sounds a little fantastic. Another dimension? A parallel world? Counterparts so close to us, even the DNA matched, so you could pass for a kidnapping victim?"

"If you remove the impossible, what remains is the truth," Dumbledore said.

Grindelwald scoffed in reply. "Or the impossible. I haven't seen any proof so far."

"If I could prove it easily, I wouldn't be here," Granger retorted.

"Really?" Grindelwald scoffed. "What about the device you used to save Mr Weasley?"

"What?" Granger froze for a moment, and Ron barely kept himself from wincing.

"You claim you have no proof, yet you cling to the same ugly, ratty bag you were found with after your arrival - you even take it with you on your runs," the German said before picking up and eating another pie.

"You searched my room!" Granger shot back.

"The staff uses your absences to clean it and do the laundry," Dumbledore cut in. "Like in a hotel."

And then reported to him. Which had been obvious - at least to Ron. That was part of the reason they only talked about magic on their runs. And once more, Granger was spilling information.

"I analysed the reports and records from the shoot-out in the park. There's no known method to achieve the 'cloud of darkness' that covered Mr Weasley," Grindelwald said.

"There you have your proof, then," Granger retorted.

"A deduction. Not quite proof." The old man's smile was a far cry from Dumbledore's. Hard and triumphant.

"What I used was a limited resource," Granger told him.

"And I'm very grateful she used it, despite it being irreplaceable," Ron cut in. "I was in a sticky situation."

"Sticky indeed," Dumbledore said. "There was a lot of blood on the ground - I would have assumed that you were gravely wounded, if not for seeing you here, hale and healthy."

Ron forced himself to keep smiling and nodded. "Yes." He wouldn't show any reaction. Even though the two old men were already aware that he had been hurt.

"Another irreplaceable resource, I assume," Grindelwald said with obviously fake sincerity.

For a change, Granger didn't reply.

But it wasn't because she had managed to bite her tongue, Ron realised with a glance.

* * *

"_Episkey! Episkey! Episkey!"_

_It wasn't working. The wounds weren't closing. It was a dark curse. _

"_Vulnera Sanentur!" _

_She all but yelled the incantation, then sighed with relief as she saw the wounds close. But he had lost a lot of blood. She reached into her bag and pulled out a Blood-Replenishing Potion._

"_What are you doing?"_

_She froze at the acerbic tone. Snape._

"_Saving Neville," Harry spat._

"_You're wasting time." The professor - she would never call him 'Headmaster' - sneered. "Time your friends are buying for you with their lives. What use is it to waste a valuable potion on him if he'll pointlessly die anyway so long as you don't accomplish your task?"_

"_You bloody git! He's our friend!" Ron roared._

"_He's not going to bleed out any more." Snape sneered and flicked his wand. A moment later, Neville opened his eyes and groaned. "There. Healthy, if not hale. Now go and destroy the last Horcrux before the last of your allies falls to the Dark Lord!"_

"_What?" Neville asked, blinking. Then he focused on Harry. "Go! We'll hold them."_

_She bit her lower lip. But Harry nodded - with clenched teeth. "He's right. Let's go!"_

_And she stashed the potion in her bag again as she followed her friends to the Room of Requirement._


	12. Chapter 12: The Cover Story

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 12: The Cover Story**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 19th, 2005**

Granger recovered quickly, but not quickly enough for the two old men to miss what had happened. Ron saw Dumbledore smile in apparent sympathy - which was probably faked - and Grindelwald's lips twitch a little as Granger took a deep breath.

"Sorry," she said. "Memories."

"I see how you managed to convince people that you were a kidnapping victim."

Granger glared at him. "I _was _a kidnapping victim."

Ron kept himself from reaching over to touch her hand or shoulder. She wouldn't appreciate it.

"Not for long, though, according to your story," Grindelwald said in a very clinical tone. Had he sounded like that when he had interrogated people for the Abwehr?

"Long enough to be tortured extensively," she spat.

Luna gasped, and Ron winced. He hadn't known that, though he had suspected. Some of the nightmares had been a little too specific.

"Gellert." Dumbledore inclined his head, and Grindelwald leaned back. Was the old man _pouting_? Was that a hint at who called the shots in that relationship?

Ron focused on Granger. She was trembling and tenser than a bowstring. But she kept staring at Grindelwald, her jaw clenched and her teeth bared. Too stubborn for her own good.

And too gullible to keep such information secret. Ron cleared his throat. "Do you really want to waste an irreplaceable, possibly life-saving resource on satisfying your curiosity?"

Grindelwald's expression told Ron that he did - but it was Dumbledore who replied. "Perish the thought! Although if you have access to any renewable resources, we'd be delighted if you were able to provide a demonstration. Or if you could manufacture a small device."

Granger pressed her lips together. They really should have thought of a good cover story for magic. Well, there was always Clarke - but technology was replicable. Generally. Perhaps... "The resources needed for her advanced technology aren't available in our world."

Granger shot him a look he couldn't read, then nodded. "Yes. I'm focusing on opening a portal to my world since I know how to do that with the resources available. But to recreate most of my world's advanced technology, I would have to know how, first of all, and then have access to resources unique to my home world." She hadn't stumbled over 'advanced technology'. "And, seeing as I barely managed to save Ron's life, I'd be loathe to waste what devices I have left on demonstrations. That I packed for a fight doesn't help, of course - most of what I have left is meant for emergency use in combat."

And there she went and said too much, again. Ron suppressed a sigh.

"And your healing technology?" Grindelwald asked.

"Limited to wounds," she replied.

"Ah." He slowly nodded.

Was the man sick? Ron wondered.

"All we - all of us - need is a portal to your home world, I think," Dumbledore said.

"And hope that your doctors accept what we can offer," Grindelwald added.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Granger said. "If my friends are still fighting, they should be able to grant you access to advanced healing in exchange for material support. And if they won, I'll get you access myself."

"And if they lost?" Grindelwald asked.

She clenched her teeth again. "Then we'll see if the French have a taste for what you can offer. But someone will want this world's luxuries."

"Luxury goods are a quite common start for trade relations, if I remember my history lessons correctly," Dumbledore said.

Was the old man planning to open a trade route through the portal? How would that play with the 'Statute of Secrecy' Granger had mentioned? Probably not too well, Ron thought. Something they couldn't let the two men know or there would be problems.

"I would be interested in hearing more about your home world, Dr Granger," Grindelwald said after the main course - excellent 'schnitzel' with pommes frites - was served. "Nothing that would trigger traumatic memories. Just a basic overview - how advanced is your world? I would prefer not to emulate the Indians selling their land for glass beads."

"It's 'Native Americans'," Granger told him. "And I can assure you that I wouldn't let you be tricked like that."

"That's laudable of you, and your help is appreciated," Grindelwald replied - though he didn't sound particularly grateful, at least in Ron's opinion. "But surely you understand that we'd prefer to make our own informed decisions? As you would in our place, I think."

"Yes, I understand." Granger sounded reluctant. But Ron knew this had been well-played by the old man. "Now, in my home world, it's mainly the elite who have access to such advantages. Unless born into the right family, you have to be extraordinarily talented to join the club, so to speak."

"Like yourself, Dr Granger?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes. My parents were, like the Grangers in this world, dentists."

"I presume that you faced a lot of resentment and jealousy," the old man went on.

"Yes," Granger confirmed in a flat voice.

"Up to a war against you and your peers?"

"Yes. And against everyone who'd stand with us."

"Such as Albus's counterpart," Grindelwald commented, finishing his schnitzel.

"He was our leader," Granger confirmed what Grindelwald would already know.

"And defeated my counterpart in a duel when he was poised to conquer Europe in the 1940s." The old man snorted. "A tall tale, if ever I heard one."

"That's the official story," Ron cut in before Granger could reveal more clues about magic. "Shooting his lover from behind probably wouldn't have made for a good story."

Dumbledore chuckled at that, then sent a wry glance at Grindelwald. "While I like the thought of my counterpart saving his country single-handedly, killing his beloved seems a little too pragmatic."

"I like the thought that my counterpart only lost because of love," Grindelwald replied.

The smile they shared was creepy, in Ron's opinion, though it was also clear that there was more behind the exchange.

"Your counterpart didn't kill Grindelwald. My Grindelwald. He imprisoned him in a prison Grindelwald had built," Granger said.

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded. "That changes things, I believe."

Grindelwald snorted. "My counterpart was kept in his own private prison? That's certainly a better fate than what awaited the leaders of the Reich."

"You make it sound as if there was no trial, Dr Granger," Dumbledore commented.

"I don't know. But I think that if there had been a trial, it would have been both public and would have revealed their personal relationship," Granger replied.

"So much for due process," the old German commented.

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed. Once more, it sounded like hinting at a shared event. "Though I presume that such revelations would have put a crimp in my counterpart's political ambitions."

Ah. That might explain why Dumbledore hadn't been knighted after his service as 'C' twenty years ago. Ron nodded.

"It was revealed after his death to attack him posthumously," Granger said.

"Ah." Dumbledore's smile turned wry again, and he glanced at Grindelwald with another unreadable expression.

"Err." Granger bit her lower lip. "The attack wasn't aimed at the homosexual nature of the relationship, should that be your assumption. It was the fact that the famous Albus Dumbledore had been the lover of one of the most infamous people in the world that was meant to wreck his reputation and demoralise our side."

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded again. "And that only happened after my counterpart's demise, not before. So it didn't impact his political career."

"No, it didn't. For decades, your counterpart was an internationally-famous politician and the headmaster of our most important boarding school. At the same time," Granger said.

Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, and Grindelwald cackled. "I was a headmaster?"

"And a teacher before that."

The old man slowly inclined his head. "Shaping the future leaders of the country, I presume. And recruiting operatives - like yourself."

"Yes," Granger confirmed.

"I have to admit that I never contemplated that course of action. Although I probably wouldn't have been a very good teacher." But probably a good recruiter, Ron thought.

"I believe I mentioned before that we cannot trust my knowledge about someone's counterpart in order to draw conclusions about them," Granger pointed out with a smug smile.

"Ah, but the temptation to do so remains as strong as ever!" Dumbledore replied. "The ultimate game of 'what if?', so to speak."

"Well, I, for one, am glad I wasn't sentenced to life in Spandau," Grindelwald said. "Hess would have been a very boring cellmate, I think."

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed.

"Were you ever tried?" Luna asked.

"No. Not by the Reich nor by the Allies after the capitulation." Grindelwald smiled with a cold expression. "I was a mere junior officer doing my duty in the Abwehr during the war."

Luna frowned, but before she could push the old spy, Dumbledore stepped in. "And when he was forced to choose between his duty and his love, he couldn't decide."

"I might have managed to make a decision if someone hadn't pushed me out of a window."

"On the first floor."

"Yes."

Both chuckled. Ron glanced at Harry, who hadn't said anything in quite a while. His friend was staring at the two old men with a very guarded expression.

As expected, Harry hadn't been fooled by the 'harmless old men' act the two were putting on for them.

* * *

"And did you never use your influence or your access to privileged information to help your business interests?" Luna asked with a frown.

"My dear, that would have been unethical," Dumbledore replied, finishing his dessert - a rather conventional mix of various flavours of ice cream; apparently, Grindelwald wasn't fond of 'fancy desserts'.

"I doubt that you ran the Secret Service with ethics in mind," she retorted.

"Oh, but that was in the interest of our country; ethics are a little more flexible in that case." Dumbledore nodded with a very patronising expression. He found this as amusing as Grindelwald, Ron realised, but was a little less blatant about it.

"And yet you haven't actually denied it," Harry pointed out.

"Habit, Mr Potter," Dumbledore told him. "I have had to neither confirm nor deny any speculation in the press for a long time."

"I'm not the press," Luna said. "I'm just a concerned citizen."

"A very concerned citizen, I'd say," Grindelwald commented.

"Are my questions making you uncomfortable?" She frowned at him.

"I've dealt with such questions for decades - as a weapons manufacturer in Germany, the press is a regular concern."

"It's only fair to answer questions of yours after asking so many ourselves," Dumbledore said - as if they had actually answered any questions, instead of deflecting them.

Then again, they would have realised that Granger was giving evasive answers as well. Which, Ron realised, was probably the reason they were treating Luna like this. A subtle hint.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 20th, 2005**

"We need to think of a cover story for magic," Harry said during the first break of their morning run. "Otherwise, they'll figure it out. Quickly."

Granger was still catching her breath, as was Luna - they had stepped up the pace, to explain the longer breaks they would be taking. Not that Ron expected to fool Dumbledore, but getting sloppy was a bad habit to develop. But Granger managed to reply, if a little choppily: "Easier… said… than… done."

Ron watched her rest while he stretched. Truth to be told, he could use a break as well, if only to be fully ready should someone attack.

"Difficult or not, we have to do it," Harry retorted. "If they realise that it's magic, and not technology that could be copied and controlled, they won't be pleased."

"They'll have to be told when I open the portal," Granger said. "I won't be able to conceal the ritual's nature."

Granger had made it clear that she didn't like the 'Dark Arts', as black magic was called in her world, but that still sounded a little worrying.

"You need to keep magic secret until you can return to your world!" Luna cut in. "If they find out that you need to be born with magic, they'll try to start a breeding program!"

And _that_ was a _very disturbing _thought. Though Ron had no doubt that Grindelwald would be all for it, and Dumbledore would at least entertain the idea - and probably try to subtly arrange a relationship with one of his agents. Or try to clone her.

Granger seemed to turn slightly green. "That's…"

"Not too far-fetched," Ron cut her off. "Do you think a country wouldn't go to such lengths to secure wizards and witches for themselves?"

"To such lengths, and more!" Luna told her, nodding repeatedly.

Granger sighed, then also nodded. "I guess they would."

"Which is why we need a cover story that will hold up," Harry said, rolling his shoulders. "At least so you can make chit-chat without revealing crucial secrets."

Granger glared at him, but Harry ignored it. "As I already said," she replied through clenched teeth, "it's not easy to cover up magic. It's not the same as advanced technology, no matter what certain fantasy authors claim. You can't just replace a spell with some machine when telling a story."

Ron nodded despite the dig at Clarke. "Using spells instead of machines causes distinct differences in the entire society. Like a war being decided by a duel between the two most powerful wizards."

Granger blinked, then nodded. "Exactly! Most of what I could tell them about Wizarding Britain wouldn't make any sense if magic were a form of technology. And they would realise that very quickly if they haven't already," she added with a gloomy expression.

"No thanks to you telling them too much. You don't have to answer every question," Harry told her.

Granger scowled at him. "If I don't say anything, it's even more obvious!"

"Old men are stuck in their ways," Luna said. "They will have trouble accepting the existence of magic, especially without a demonstration."

Ron glanced at Harry. They certainly had taken some time to accept magic despite a demonstration. His friend shook his head. "Don't count on that. They're former spies, and they've already accepted dimensional travel."

Ron grinned. "We'll make a sci-fi fan out of you yet, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes as he continued. "But we need to have a cover story." He looked at Ron. "One that will at least seem plausible."

Ron realised that all three were looking at him.

"You're the one most experienced with fantasy and sci-fi books, Ron," Luna told him.

"I'm not a wizard, though. You're a witch," he addressed Granger, "You know how actual magic works."

"Which won't help overly much with hiding it. Without memory-wiping spells, at least," she retorted. "You probably know more about creating a convincing society that uses advanced technology than I do."

"Probably, yes," he admitted. Certainly, actually - but it was probably already hard enough for her to admit relative ignorance on any subject.

"So it's up to you!" Luna declared. "Our fate, the fate of Hermione's world, depends on you!"

"No pressure," Harry commented with a smirk.

Ron glared at him, but his friend's smirk only grew more pronounced. Git.

* * *

By the time they were starting their evening run - or late afternoon run: there was another dinner with the two old men scheduled - Ron hadn't yet found a good cover story. Any kind of technological explanation he could think of that would explain magic without revealing that it was magic wouldn't explain the sort of society Granger had already laid out. Or why there hadn't been a revolution or a large-scale civil war.

"An aristocracy?" Granger sounded incredulous.

"Well, not officially. More like a hyper-capitalist society with a very steep class divide between the rich and the poor, where the rich have access to advanced technology and the poor live in squalid slums. And where the best and brightest of the poor get a chance to join the rich, which serves as a pressure valve to keep them from starting a revolution," Ron explained. "And any conflict between the rich is kept 'in the family', so to speak."

"So… like our society? Just without the magic technology?" Luna asked.

"More like every cyberpunk novel, ever," Harry commented.

"Those are basically our world, just with the blinders removed. Cyberpunk is classic social criticism disguised as a fantasy story to make it more palatable to both the masses and the shadow conspiracy," Luna retorted.

Granger looked a little lost. Ron smiled at her. "I can tell you which are the best novels to read from the genre. So you know what you should be talking about."

The way she seemed torn between surprise and annoyance at the fact that she might have to read 'such diversions', as she had called them, made her look very cute.

* * *

"...so, your civil war was not an open war, but fought in the shadows?" Dumbledore rubbed his beard. "A struggle for dominance amongst the country's leadership, with all means short of the military being used?" He probably was very familiar with that sort of conflict.

"More or less," Granger replied. "It was mostly covert actions on both sides. Death squads and strike teams. You had to hide since if you were discovered, you were usually dead."

"That should have kept the overall death toll low, though." The old man nodded. "If all conflicts I had to meddle with had been so contained… I almost envy my counterpart. A lot of conflicts were… messy."

Granger frowned, but, fortunately, didn't reveal too much as she replied: "There was still some collateral damage, and some of the hired guns had some disgusting habits more suited to the era of the Landsknechte."

Her dessert was slowly melting, Ron noticed - between answering the two old men's questions, she had barely eaten half of her ice cream. But at least she hadn't let slip more crucial information, and it seemed as if their cover story was holding up so far.

"Ah." Grindelwald nodded. "That's quite typical for mercenaries. No discipline. Remember the Congo?" he asked Dumbledore, who chuckled at the question.

"Were you involved in the coup?" Luna asked.

"I couldn't possibly comment," Dumbledore replied.

"Ah." It was clear that Luna saw that as confirmation. "And is that your opinion of your own mercenaries?"

"We do not employ mercenaries," Dumbledore told her. "Though you might have a mistaken impression that we do due to the fact that many former soldiers tend to work as security guards or bodyguards."

"They have a rather proactive view of 'guarding', if I recall correctly," Luna retorted.

"If you're facing terrorists and pirates, you won't be able to do your job with a club and a taser," Grindelwald said. "And we prefer employees who take the initiative if needed."

Luna wrinkled her nose. "That's scant consolation to the 'collateral damage' they cause."

"Sometimes, such tragic incidents happen despite the best precautions," Dumbledore replied. "I don't doubt that Dr Granger has had similar experiences."

The old man was getting better at changing the subject back to Granger's world, but Ron knew Luna was too stubborn to stop and would continue her 'interrogation' at the next opportunity - as she had done for the entire meal.

"I wasn't part of the teams that went out and attacked our enemies," Granger said.

"But you did fight. Several times."

"Yes. But I didn't attack civilians," she retorted.

"Not intentionally, at least."

Granger glared at him with her lips pressed together but didn't deny the implied accusation.

"Besides," Grindelwald spoke up again, "unless you plan to abandon Dr Granger and Miss Lovegood, you'll be quitting the police and entering the private security sector as well, won't you?"

"I think after surviving those shootings, we could easily get a few months of leave to recover from our ordeal," Harry said.

"Faking combat shock?" Grindelwald didn't bother to hide his sneer. "You expect your superiors to fall for such a transparent ploy?"

Bones and Scrimgeour would have seen through it, but both of them were dead. Who knew who'd be put in charge of CI5 now? None of the remaining superintendents would have made a good impression.

"And what would Officer Moody think about that?" Dumbledore asked. "Not to mention the effect it would have on your future prospects. And people suffering from PTSD are rarely allowed to carry weapons."

Ron clenched his teeth. The old man was correct. Using such a loophole wouldn't work out well for them. He forced himself to shrug. "We're still hiding with our charge, so that's not an immediate concern."

"I don't expect that situation to last much longer," Dumbledore said. "As the investigation uncovers more of Mr Yaxley's past, it will soon reach a point where you'll have to be officially cleared - although you will have to testify to settle the matter, I believe. As will you, Dr Granger."

Ron wasn't worried about that himself - he and Harry had had to testify several times in the past. But Granger… if she was as uncooperative as she had been with them, it might result in a problem.

"I think a good, discreet solicitor would greatly facilitate the process," Dumbledore suggested - of course, he would be aware of Granger's past interrogations. He had probably read her entire file already. "I'll cover their fee, of course."

"A lawyer?" Granger seemed surprised. "Could they be trusted?"

"Oh, you won't have to tell them the truth." Dumbledore smiled widely. "And they usually know not to ask too many questions."

"Who do you have in mind?"

"The unfortunately named, but quite skilled, Cornelius Fudge."

"What? Him?" Granger gasped, then wildly shook her head.

* * *

**Near Ipswich, Suffolk, Britain, July 22nd, 2005**

"Well, Fudge can't be an incompetent lawyer if he can afford this sort of vacation home," Ron commented, studying the small manor as their driver, one of Dumbledore's employees, drove the limousine towards the parking area. He couldn't see any signs of an ambush or trap. Neither did Harry, or Ron's friend would have said something.

"He could have inherited the house," Granger replied.

"He didn't. We checked," Harry said. Fudge wasn't one of the best solicitors, but certainly one of the most discreet.

"Or he could be corrupt." Granger sniffed. "Selling out his clients for the right price."

"I don't think Dumbledore would have referred you to Fudge if he were that corrupt," Luna said, straightening the summer dress she wore. "He's an evil corporate tycoon, but he's not naive or stupid."

"Well, it's just as you said: You can't judge people based on the actions of their counterparts," Ron remarked.

The glare Granger sent him was very impressive. "I agreed to meet Fudge," she said, "didn't I?"

"You did," Ron agreed. "After a heated argument, though."

"I merely voiced my doubts," she replied.

Ron suppressed a chuckle at that blatant understatement. Harry wasn't as successful - or didn't bother.

"You voiced them very vigorously and passionately," Luna said, nodding.

Granger huffed in response, shook her head, then walked towards the manor's door a little faster than before, forcing them to catch up. Not that it took Ron much of an effort. Nor did he mind - he was starting to feel a little exposed out in the open, especially as the sun was setting.

The door opened a few seconds after Granger had rung the bell, revealing a slightly corpulent middle-aged man with a receding hairline. "Good evening, Dr Granger! Officer Potter. Officer Weasley. Miss..." he blinked.

"Lovegood. Luna Lovegood," Luna told him.

"Ah. Good evening, Miss Lovegood. I'm Cornelius Fudge. Pleased to meet you all! Please come in!"

The entrance hall was decorated with a few too many paintings and a few too many antiques. Trying too hard, Dad would call it. Sirius would make a comment about the 'nouveau riche'. Still, what it fell short of in style it certainly made up for in impressing upon visitors that Fudge had money. Of course, the kind of people he probably wanted to impress wouldn't be impressed at all by such a display. But they weren't here to judge the man's interior decorator.

"Please join me in the salon," Fudge said, gesturing towards the door to the side, next to a landscape painting.

The 'salon' sported too many stuffed animal heads. They sat down on a couch below an elephant and a rhinoceros staring at each other.

"Please serve yourself," Fudge told them, pointing at the low table where several bottles and two bowls with crackers stood. "Unfortunately, due to the discretion this meeting requires, I had to send the staff away for the evening."

Which meant they would be aware there was something important and secret occurring. Not the safest way to handle this, Ron thought. But Dumbledore was vouching for the man.

"Thank you," Granger said - she wasn't even looking at the refreshments, Ron noticed. Luna, though, was already happily munching on one of everything. Sometimes, she was far too trusting.

"Do you know why we're meeting with you?" Granger asked.

"Well, even if I hadn't been told by my very good friend Albus, I would have deduced the reason for your visit by now - you're famous, after all. Most of you." Fudge flashed pearly-white teeth.

"Of course. As you've deduced, I need a solicitor for my upcoming interview with the police." Granger managed to say without losing her polite smile.

"And the gentlemen and Miss Lovegood?" Fudge asked.

"We'll be fine," Harry told him, "and Luna's not involved."

"Well, not in the criminal case," Luna said. "I'd like to think I'm involved in the lives of my friends."

"Quite. If you change your mind, my partner is an excellent solicitor and would be happy to assist you in your interviews." Fudge widely smiled at them. "Just in case - one can never go wrong with competent help, after all, and any money spent on keeping oneself free of legal entanglement is worth spending, wouldn't you agree?"

Ron kept a polite smile on his face even though he'd never let Fudge or one of the man's partners represent him in an interrogation. A former Chief Superintendent who had switched sides and become a solicitor after a scandal? His colleagues would assume that he was guilty as sin with that sort of solicitor.

Which, he realised, might also be the case for Granger. Might - she wasn't under investigation, after all. But to show up all lawyered up with Fudge? That would leave an unfavourable impression. And Dumbledore would have known that.

"To business then," Fudge said, putting his glass down. "I'm afraid that I need some privacy for my talk with Dr Granger. Procedure, you understand - it would be unethical to discuss anything pertaining to the case with two persons of interest in the same case present. So, feel free to avail yourself of the rest of the refreshments while my client and I confer in my office."

Ron nodded. "Of course. Although one of us will have to wait in front of your office. Procedure, you know."

"Albus mentioned something like that," Fudge replied, apparently unfazed by the dig at his former career. "Please follow me, then."

At least the man seemed to be a competent lawyer.

* * *

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 25th, 2005**

Dawlish was leaning against the wall, glaring at them as they approached the waiting area for their interviews. A number of their colleagues had done the same since they had stepped into the building, but he was one of the few doing it openly, Ron noticed.

"So you finally stopped hiding." Dawlish didn't bother to conceal his sneer, either.

"Yes," Harry replied. "We would have resurfaced sooner, but we had to wait until you lot figured out that you had a traitor in your midst - wait, it wasn't you who figured that out. You had to get help."

"No thanks to you," Dawlish retorted.

"You had all the clues," Ron told him. "Bones and Scrimgeour couldn't have been killed without inside information. And who benefited the most from their deaths?"

"Really? You want to tell me that Yaxley had them murdered to get promoted? He wasn't that dumb." Dawlish shook his head. "And you have a lot of nerve to talk like that - you were present at both murders, and vanished afterwards."

"Because we realised that there was a traitor," Harry said.

"And we were almost killed," Ron added.

Dawlish scoffed. "So you say." He glanced at Granger, who was talking with Fudge behind them. "You going to hide behind him as well?"

Dawlish knew as well as they did that Fudge couldn't represent all of them. This was just another dig. Ron shook his head anyway. "We've got nothing to hide," he lied.

The other officer shook his head and walked away without another word.

Perhaps quitting CI5 was a good idea for other reasons as well.

"Why are we being interviewed here?" Granger asked after catching up to them. "I thought the entire department was under suspicion."

"Not officially," Ron told her. Officially, the various other organisations were only providing assistance to CI5.

"But anyone in CI5 will be seen with suspicion for some time," Harry added.

"Or derision for not spotting the traitor."

"Well-deserved derision!"

Ron whirled around with a sinking feeling in his gut. Moody was standing in the door to one of the interrogation rooms, glaring at them. And he had gotten the drop on them.

"We fucked up," their old instructor said. "Rufus, Amelia, you two, myself."

"How could you have detected Yaxley's treachery?" Granger asked.

Moody narrowed his good eye at her. "Dr Granger."

She didn't flinch - she was even smiling, a little at least. "Yes. And you are…?"

"Alastor Moody. But you knew that already." The older man turned to glare at Ron. "Been telling stories, have we?"

"Not many," Ron defended himself. Granger knew Moody because she had known his counterpart. Who had, apparently, lost more in the line of duty than an eye.

"Just enough to recognise you," Granger added.

Ron glared at her, and she flinched. Good. This wasn't her Moody.

"Did they tell you how I lost my eye?" Moody's hand rose to touch his eyepatch.

"No."

Ron tensed. The other man wouldn't… He would. With a practised motion, Moody pulled his patch off, revealing the scars and empty socket beneath.

But Granger didn't shriek or gasp. She probably had seen worse in her world. Had definitely seen worse, Ron corrected himself.

Moody sniffed. "They warned you."

Granger tilted her head in response. "Constant vigilance?"

That earned her a chuckle. "You're a tough one, aren't you? Or a cold one." Moody nodded at the room behind him. "Get in. We've got a lot of questions."

"As long as you refrain from any attempt to scare or surprise my client," Fudge spoke up. "Dr Granger didn't take the risk of revealing herself while the main suspect in the attacks on her is still at large to be abused by the police."

"Fudge." Moody bared his teeth.

"Moody." If the solicitor was nervous, then he hid it well, Ron thought.

After a moment, Moody snorted again and repeated his invitation: "Let's get started, then."

* * *

"...did you recognise any of the attackers in the park?"

"No." Ron refrained from adding 'as I told you before' - he knew that wouldn't help. Quite the contrary, actually - he had been in the place of the detective from the Met himself.

"Were you wounded during the fight in the park?"

"I was knocked down and briefly knocked out," he answered. Lying and claiming he hadn't been hit would be foolish - they had to have footage showing him and Granger retreating.

"Knocked down? Were you shot?"

"I wore a bullet-proof vest, which saved my life." That was a blatant lie. His first in the interview. "I ditched it afterwards - the trauma plates were broken. Some of the shards cut my skin."

"That must have been a large-calibre hit," the detective commented.

"It certainly felt like one," Ron agreed.

"Was the bullet stuck in the vest?"

Ah. "I don't think so - we would have noticed. But it might have fallen out during our retreat - we weren't exactly paying attention to anything other than the attackers." He was talking too much. But it was better than to answer with single words. Ron knew how to make a testimony sound plausible. But the detective did as well.

"How did you escape from the park?"

"We took our car."

"Did you expect an attack in the park?"

"Yes. We were trained to always expect the worst."

"Did you attempt to warn Commissioner Bones?"

He winced. "We assumed she was aware of the threat herself."

"Ah."

Ron pressed his lips together. Getting angry at the man was pointless. The detective hadn't been there. And didn't understand the situation.

"When did you become aware that you were under attack?"

Ron didn't sigh, even though he felt like it. He should be the one asking the questions, not the one answering. "When Harry warned me about a car approaching us."

"What did you do in response to the warning?"

"Not much. Before I could do anything, the Commissioner got shot and…"

* * *

Half an hour later, the interview was finally over, and Ron could leave and return to the waiting room. Harry wasn't done yet - Ron could see the room Harry had entered was still occupied - but Granger and Fudge were waiting. Both were reading - The Times in Fudge's case, a thick physics textbook in hers.

Ron let himself fall into the seat next to Granger's with a theatrical sigh.

Granger slowly looked up from her book and glanced at him. "There you are. What took you so long?"

"Unlike you, I didn't have a solicitor with me to tell the interviewer to shut up."

"By choice, as I recall," Fudge cut in. "The offer stood."

"Where's Harry?" Granger asked.

"He's going to be a while longer," Ron explained. "They'll have a lot more questions for him since he shot half a dozen of them - unlike me."

He saw her tense. Her jaw muscles slightly twitched. "You were shot," she said. Ron heard the unsaid 'and you almost died'.

"The vest stopped it," he replied with a smile. "As you know."

She sniffed in return. Not quite a huff.

"Did everything go well?" Fudge asked.

Ron shrugged. "I'd say so." He didn't know Brown, but Ron hadn't given the other officer any cause to suspect him - and who would even suspect magic?

"Good, good," Fudge replied. "Once Mr Potter is done, this whole affair should be settled."

"For us," Granger said. "There's still the matter of Yaxley being at large."

Or dead, Ron thought.

"That shouldn't be a source of concern for you," Fudge told her. "He's alone and on the run. He's probably halfway to Brazil by now, though I dare say he'd receive a far different welcome there than a famous train robber."

"I certainly hope so," Granger replied.

Ron's money was still on Yaxley having been killed by his backers. But he couldn't mention that here or he'd run the risk of another interview - or interrogation. "So do I," he said instead, wishing they had stopped by a bookshop on the way to headquarters - he hadn't checked for new novels in a while. At least he had a battered copy of 'A Civil Campaign' to pass the time. Bujold never failed to entertain.

After half an hour spent reading in silence, Harry finally showed up. He didn't look relieved - he looked angry.

"Those idiots!"

He also sounded angry.

"What happened?" Granger asked.

"Do you need a solicitor?" Fudge added, looking eager.

"What? No. They didn't openly accuse me," Harry snarled. "But the comparisons between my shooting and the shots the sniper took to murder Scrimgeour and Bones…" He shook his head. "Someone at least thinks I could have killed them."

Well, technically, Harry could have done it - he was an excellent marksman. But he wouldn't have done it. And he had an alibi - although it rested on Ron and Granger's testimony. "You know how investigations by other departments are," Ron told his friend.

"Yes. But want to bet some idiots like Dawlish believe it as well?"

That was a sucker bet. Ron shook his head.

"I don't think too many will be sad to see us go," Harry went on.

Ron remembered the glances they'd received coming in and nodded. Some would be envious, some would blame them for CI5 getting investigated and humiliated - and some would blame them for Bones and Scrimgeour's deaths. "Colin will be sad, though," he said.

That didn't do much to console Harry. And Granger… Ron frowned as he glanced at her. She wasn't looking at anyone or anything.

* * *

"_You're being accused of murder? Of Diggory's murder?" She couldn't have heard correctly. Harry had tried to save the other boy._

"_They're 'investigating'," Harry told her, shrugging. "Dumbledore said they're trying to frame me so he'll have to expend political capital and open himself to accusations of corruption when he intervenes. They've been dragging up Sirius's disappearance from Hogwarts last year."_

"_Percy said the same thing," Ron added. "Malfoy's spending gold like crazy to sway the Wizengamot. And he pretty much owns Fudge."_

"_But Diggory?" She couldn't believe it._

"_As long as they can point at me, they won't have to explain who killed him," Harry said._

"_Those…" She pressed her lips together, clenching her teeth to keep from cursing the Ministry. How could they do this to Harry? Her friend was… She blinked. "You're taking this quite well…" she trailed off, not wanting to insult him by criticising his temper._

_Harry chuckled, but without any humour. "Dumbledore warned me about this. Kept me up to date during the holidays."_

"_Oh. So… it's being handled?"_

_He inclined his head. "He's got a plan. If all goes well, it'll put a crimp into Malfoy's scheming and expose his allies."_

_Ron nodded. "And he'll get leverage on Fudge."_

_That sounded promising. But Harry was the one under investigation. For murder! "And if it doesn't go well?"_

_He grimaced. "Well… then Dumbledore will have to step in and prove their accusations about him right."_

"_Probably end up in an open war," Ron added, looking grim. _

_So that was why they were in Grimmauld Place instead of The Burrow. "What can we do?" she asked._

"_Nothing," Harry told her. "It's out of our hands until the DMLE decides to put me on trial or drop the investigation."_

_She really didn't like hearing that. She hated being unable to do anything. "I'll study wizarding law, then," she announced. "Just in case."_

_Her friends knew her too well to point out that she wouldn't be allowed to speak in his defence. She knew it as well. But she couldn't just wait without doing anything._


	13. Chapter 13: The Tank Commander

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Tank Commander**

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, July 25th, 2005**

Granger shook her head and muttered something Ron didn't catch despite being sat next to her.

"Pardon?" Harry frowned at her.

"Nothing." After a moment, she added: "I'll explain later." Meaning: once they were outside.

But as they stepped out of the building - into the interior yard, where their car was parked - Ron spotted Moody leaning against the wall near the corner, arms crossed, and watching them. No, waiting for them.

Granger had spotted him as well - Ron heard her curse. "He wants to talk," he told her.

"I'd advise against speaking with any police officers at this stage of the investigation," Fudge spoke up. "At least without a solicitor present."

"It's not that kind of talk," Harry told the man.

"He was our instructor," Ron added.

"I'm aware of that," Fudge said. "I'm also aware that he's a very obstinate man."

There was no point in denying that. Ron glanced at Moody again - the man hadn't moved, but was staring at them with his good eye. They should talk to him. Not only did he deserve some sort of explanation but he'd probably track them down if they simply quit and vanished. Although he might do that anyway. On the other hand, they couldn't leave Granger alone.

"Well, get on with it," Granger told them. "We can wait in the car." At Ron's glance, she sniffed. "I've spoken to Officer Moody quite enough for this week."

Ron nodded in sympathy as Harry snorted. They checked the car before letting Granger get in, then walked over to Moody.

He scoffed. "Took you long enough."

Harry shrugged. "Had to check for traps and ambushes."

Moody grunted in response. "Did you?"

"Yes," Ron replied.

"Really." Moody pushed off the wall. "Perhaps you did. This time."

"Neither Scrimgeour nor Bones was our fault," Harry spat.

Moody looked at him. "Yaxley was too eager. Should have noticed that."

Ron couldn't tell if Moody meant them or himself. Probably both.

"That's hindsight," Harry said, frowning.

Moody shrugged. "And it shouldn't be hindsight."

"We weren't around much when Yaxley got involved," Harry retorted. His friend was still wound up by the accusations levelled against him, Ron realised.

"I'd tell you to do better next time, but you're not going to stay, are you?"

How had he…? Ron pressed his lips together - if Moody had been guessing, then their reaction had just given the game away.

The older man chuckled. Once. "As I thought."

So Moody had been guessing. Swell.

"What would be the point?" Harry said, scoffing. "They blame us for the whole affair."

"You're no quitter, Potter. And neither is Weasley." Moody grinned. "Matter of fact, you'd stay on to spite everyone, wouldn't you? Unless you had another reason to quit." He turned his head to stare at the car.

Bloody hell! Ron almost felt bad for telling Granger off for spilling information. "Someone has to protect her," he told Moody.

"And you want to be the one."

"She needs someone she can trust and who can do the job. Not too many of them around, are there?" Ron replied.

Moody snorted. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?" He glanced at Harry, then looked at Ron again. "You wouldn't have told her to hire Fudge. In fact, you'd have told her not to hire the man. And Fudge isn't cheap."

"Granger's the most famous kidnapping victim in Britain," Harry pointed out. "Good publicity."

"Fudge isn't after publicity. There won't be a trial, anyway. Someone's paying him, and the Grangers don't have enough money to cover his fees. Fudge quickly shut that question down when I asked the girl."

Well, that mistake wasn't their fault, but Dumbledore's. "Can't tell you," Ron said, showing his teeth. "Loose lips sink ships." Moody had taught them that.

"Good lad." The older officer nodded. "Looks like you remembered at least one lesson." He cocked his head. "But you forgot my lesson about women and work."

"It's not like that," Ron told him. He wasn't mixing work and his private affairs.

Moody shook his head with a twisted grin. "And you forgot what I told you about politics."

"We're just protecting a woman," Harry told him.

"Against Russian 'mercenaries'?" Moody shook his head. "And a woman who's hiding something? You're fools, lads."

Ron clenched his teeth. They were doing the right thing.

"Unless you already know what she's hiding."

They didn't react to that probe.

"Better." Moody grinned again. "I don't know who's paying you - or will be paying you. But I know enough to tell you that they're bad news. They always are, in this sort of business."

Well, Ron couldn't disagree with Moody there - he didn't trust Dumbledore and Grindelwald.

"Keep your wits about you, lads. What's left of them, in any case." Moody nodded at them.

"We will," Harry replied, nodding firmly.

"You better. I don't want to hear that all that time I spent training you was wasted," the older man said, then turned away.

* * *

**No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, July 25th, 2005**

"That's different," Granger remarked as Harry drove their armoured car - they'd switched cars, with Fudge being driven home in the original car - down the ramp that led to the garage of Sirius and Harry's home.

Ron didn't know how Sirius had managed to get planning permission for it in this neighbourhood, but he was glad for the privacy and security it granted them. If they had had to park in the yard, they would have been too exposed. Too vulnerable - Yaxley still hadn't been caught, and Ron didn't think that the man's sniper was among the people Harry had killed in Clissold Park.

"Well, you don't need a garage for brooms, do you?" Harry said as he parked the car.

Granger snorted. "Wizards don't use brooms in the middle of London - not many are able to cast the Disillusionment Charms needed to hide them from muggles, and invisibility cloaks are expensive and don't last long. Most use the Floo Network or the Knight Bus."

"The bus?" Ron asked.

"An enchanted bus that covers all of Britain, providing transportation for wizards and witches who couldn't use the Floo or apparate for one reason or another," Granger explained. "Fast, but very uncomfortable."

"Ah." Ron nodded. "Do people enchant cars as well?" he asked as he got out.

"Your… I mean, my Ron's father did. A Ford Anglia that could turn invisible and fly."

Ron wanted one. No, he wanted his Ford Capri enchanted like that.

"I can't do that," Granger told him as if she had read his thoughts.

Well, perhaps he could ask the man himself, once Granger managed to open a portal.

"Harry!"

Ron jerked, almost going for his gun when he heard the yell. Who would…?

"Ginny?" he and Harry said in unison just before Ron's sister tackled her boyfriend. Well, technically, she hugged him, but Harry had to take a step back or he would have fallen down.

"Ginny…" Ron heard Granger mumble next to him.

"How did you…?" Harry managed to say before Ginny silenced him with a kiss. A very French kiss.

The answer, of course, was standing in the door of the lift. Sirius. And Luna.

"Hi, everyone!" Luna said, waving.

"I arranged her visit when you contacted me about staying over," the older man told them as he approached. "Sirius Black. Enchanté!" he announced as he bowed with a flourish to Granger.

"Good afternoon, Si… sir," she managed to say. "Thank you for having us over."

"It's Harry's home," Sirius replied. "Of course he can bring friends. Ron practically lived here for a time."

Until he had managed to get a flat of his own.

"That was dangerous." Apparently, Harry had finally managed to tear his face away from Ginny's.

"I picked her up in a parking garage in the City," Sirius said. "Just like Luna." Whose pickup had been planned by Harry and Ron. "And I've got the tickets to prove that I wasn't followed." Which meant he had been speeding again.

"Ah." Harry nodded - a little reluctantly.

"Yes, so you can't complain," Ginny told him. "Did you really think I wouldn't visit?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Granger and stuck her hand out. "Hello, Dr Granger. I'm Ginny." Of course, she would assume everyone already knew her. Well, she wasn't wrong with regard to Granger, but not for the reasons she probably thought.

"Hello." Granger nodded. She was quite tense, Ron noticed.

He cleared his throat. "Shall we head up? I don't know about you, but I think the living room would be more comfortable."

"Oh, of course!" Sirius grinned. "Unless Harry and Ginny would prefer their room."

"Sirius!" Harry frowned at his godfather.

Ron was looking at Granger, though. She didn't seem surprised by the remark, so she probably had expected something like that. Or she was too tense to react.

A few minutes later, everyone was settled in the living room and, apparently, the roast for dinner was in the oven. Ginny had claimed Harry's lap, of course, but that was pretty normal for the couple.

"So, have you quit CI5 yet?" Sirius asked while he was serving drinks. Apparently, Luna had told him their plans.

"No. We're suspended anyway; we'll quit once the investigation is over or it'll look as if we're guilty," Harry said.

They'd look guilty anyway, Ron knew. They couldn't tell the truth, and their soon-to-be-former colleagues would know they were hiding something.

"But you love your work!" Ginny exclaimed.

"I might love the next job more," Harry told her. "We might be going private - that way, I would have more time travelling with you."

"You want to become private detectives?" Ginny frowned. "Does that pay well?"

That was aimed at Ron, of course - between his inheritance and being Sirius's heir, Harry didn't need money. And Ginny's job paid very well. "Private security pays reasonably well," Ron replied.

"Really." Ginny narrowed her eyes at him, then looked at Granger, who had been uncharacteristically silent so far. "Private security for Dr Granger."

Ron glanced at Luna, whose smile looked a little guilty. Well, he had only himself - and Harry - to blame for that; they had arranged for Luna to stay with Sirius while they went to CI5. Of course, leaving her alone in the lab would have been out of the question.

Granger sighed. "Please excuse us for a moment. I need to talk with Luna, Mr Weasley and Mr Potter in private." She marched into the hallway, leaving Ron and Harry to follow her.

"I think we need to tell them," she said as soon as the door had closed behind them.

Ron saw Luna looking relieved while Granger glanced at him as if she wanted his approval.

Well, even if they weren't the Ginny and Sirius she knew, Ron trusted them, of course.

So he nodded in agreement. They had checked the room for bugs, anyway. Harry nodded as well, though he didn't look relieved.

They went back to the living room, where Ginny received them with narrowed eyes, frowning at Ron as if it was his fault, then at Luna. "You knew their secret already!"

"Yes," Luna replied. "Well, one of them. The most important one, I think. I'm sure they have more secrets."

"Do tell!" Sirius cut in with a wide grin. "Harry is usually so close-lipped about his work. Well, I guess if he's planning to quit, that will change."

Harry rolled his eyes. "There's also the matter of revealing classified information being illegal."

"As long as you don't get caught, who cares?" Sirius shrugged.

"This is more important than any police file," Granger said in a clipped tone. "This cannot be told to anyone, under any circumstances. Lives depend on it. Our lives."

To Ron's surprise, Ginny seemed impressed - for about a second.

"Our lips are sealed," Sirius declared, then mimed zipping his mouth shut.

Granger studied them both for a moment - was she reconsidering her decision? - then slowly nodded and took a deep breath. "I'm not from this world. I'm a witch from a parallel dimension where magic exists and was transported to this world against my will in 1998. People mistook me for the Hermione Granger who had been kidnapped here in 1991."

"A witch. From a parallel dimension." The doubt in Ginny's voice couldn't be more obvious.

"It's true," Ron told her. "It's not a prank."

"Magic?" Sirius seemed more amused than impressed, although he didn't openly doubt their claim. Yet.

"Magic." Granger nodded at him. "I lost my wand, so I cannot demonstrate much - witches and wizards need specially-made wands to do most magic. But I can do this." She held out her hand and yelled: "Accio pen!"

At once, a silver pen left Sirius's pocket and started to fly - slowly - towards her.

"That's… that's…"

Ron really enjoyed Ginny's expression. "Go on, check for magnets or wires!" he told her.

She did, glaring at him the whole time. When she didn't find either, she huffed. "That doesn't prove the existence of parallel dimensions or magic!" At Harry raising his eyebrows at her, she pouted. "Ron was always watching those series on the telly and telling me about his books."

"And you liked them," Ron reminded her. Until she had grown 'too old', in her own words.

"As impressive as this demonstration is," Sirius spoke up, "it doesn't prove her story."

"Dr Granger also has magic potions and a magic bag," Ron told him.

"And she knows our counterparts," Harry added.

"Who aren't identical to you," Granger pointed out, pen in hand. "But there are similarities." She looked at Ginny and Sirius. "I knew both of your counterparts very well."

"Not as well as she knew our counterparts, though," Ron pointed out.

"We are both witches in Hermione's world!" Luna exclaimed, beaming at Ginny. "And all of us were fighting an evil fascist regime!"

"What?"

Granger explained before Luna could: "Your counterparts in my world are witches like me - we all went to the same boarding school in Scotland - and when I was transported here, we were in the middle of a civil war with a dark wizard and his followers who had taken control of the country - well, the magical parts which formed Wizarding Britain; the United Kingdom wasn't much affected - and wanted to kill all those they considered 'impure'. Which included me."

"Exactly!" Luna nodded several times as if this were a good thing.

"What? How old were we?"

"I arrived here on the same day I left my own world," Granger told her. With a grim expression, she added: "We had no choice, even as children - they wanted to kill us. Well, me for being born, and my Harry for defeating the Dark Lord when he was a baby. Harry, that is - the Dark Lord was an adult at the time."

That made both Ginny and Sirius focus on Harry. Ron's friend wasn't happy about it, of course.

"And the Weasleys are purebloods, but still opposed the dark wizards," Ron said while Ginny ran a hand over Harry's back. "Their Ginny is a courier on a flying broom."

As it turned out, flying on brooms apparently was a little too clichéd for his sister, and Granger had to demonstrate her bag of holding to convince Ginny that this wasn't a hoax, psychic powers or not.

As if Ron would do such a thing. Now, the twins, on the other hand...

* * *

"You were shot and would have died without a magic potion?"

Ron winced - like their mother, his sister had a strong pair of lungs. Perhaps they shouldn't have told her the full truth. Sirius looked rather taken aback as well.

Well, what was done was done. Ron shrugged. "I survived. All of us did."

"And the enemies didn't. Well, most of them didn't," Harry added.

"You almost died! If Dr Granger hadn't been there, you'd have been killed!"

"Well, you saved me," he defended himself, looking at Granger.

"You didn't know that I could save you," Granger pointed out.

"Anyway, it happened. Let's talk about something more productive, shall we?"

"How about we eat first?" Sirius asked. "The roast should be done now."

Ron agreed at once. A good meal would soothe Ginny's temper.

* * *

"...and we became a couple in my fifth year?" Ginny asked over pudding.

"Your counterpart's fifth year." Granger corrected her for the umpteenth time.

Ron wondered - privately - if he should tell her that his sister was now probably only doing it out of sheer stubbornness.

"See, your magical counterpart was smarter than you were," Ginny said, turning to face Harry with a smirk.

Sirius laughed at her joke - or at Harry's slightly forced smile. "Now that we've heard everything about our dear celebrity, how about some information about my own counterpart?" Ginny had the grace to blush at the slight admonishment, Ron noticed. If he had said that, or Mum, she would have gotten mad. Or made a scene. "Harry might not have told you, but I'm a retired officer in the British Army," Sirius told Granger. "A tank commander, to be exact. I gather my counterpart held a similar position?"

"Ah." Granger grimaced. "Not exactly. Your counterpart fought in the First Wizarding War and the Second Wizarding War - or the First and Second Blood War, as we called them - but as a private citizen. And in between, he was imprisoned on false charges until he broke out shortly before the Second War started. He died in our seventh year in one of the skirmishes."

"Oh." Sirius lost his smile.

"Sorry," Granger belatedly added. She looked more tired than sorry, though - but then, after being interrogated first by Moody and then by Ginny, not many wouldn't be tired.

Sirius waved her apology away. "Don't worry about it. Though are you certain that you want to return? Your world sounds like a nightmare."

Ron rolled his eyes. Sirius sometimes was terribly blunt, and Ron had never managed to find out if it was by design or if was merely carelessness.

"Yes," Granger stated in a flat voice, "I'm certain. Deadly certain. I'm not going to abandon my friends in the middle of a war."

Luna nodded in obvious agreement as Ron refrained from pointing out that Granger had, involuntarily, of course, done exactly that.

"Very noble," Sirius said. "Although are you planning to drag Harry and his friends into your war?"

"What?" Granger shook her head, sending her ponytail whipping about. "Of course not! This isn't their war. And they couldn't do much, anyway, without magic."

Ron clenched his teeth. He wasn't useless.

"You don't strike me as bulletproof," Harry commented with a glare. "And I didn't get the impression that you were a particularly weak witch."

"Many places are protected by Muggle-Repelling Charms," Granger shot back. "You wouldn't be able to enter those areas, much less fight anyone. And those spells can be cast in combat as well. Imagine suddenly forgetting that you're fighting and wandering off in the middle of a battle!"

That was a terrifying prospect, Ron had to admit. And yet, there were more ways to fight than directly attacking the enemy. "That doesn't make us useless," he told her. "We just need to pick our fights. And you can protect us against such spells, can't you?"

"Not very effectively," she replied. "It's easier to cast such spells than dispel them."

"You aren't seriously planning to fight in a magic civil war?" Sirius asked, staring at them.

"Of course he is," Ginny replied - rather snidely, in Ron's opinion. "It's like one of his books, but he gets to take his guns with him."

This wasn't the time to educate Ginny about fantasy and science fiction novels. Ron shook his head. He turned to Granger. "You don't have your wand. You were, in your own words, one of Britain's most wanted witches. How long will you last, alone, if your enemies are still fighting - or have won?"

She glared at him and raised her chin. "Longer than you would!"

"And do you really think Dumbledore and Grindelwald would let you enter alone?" Ron pointed out. "We're not wizards, but you'll need us."

"And me!" Luna piped up. "I'm no witch, but, as you said, most of your world isn't any different from our own. I know how to fly under the radar."

"Unless it's literally flying under the radar," Ginny added with a grin. "On a broom."

Sirius shook his head. "Jokes aside, this is a very, very dangerous course of action."

"Yes, which is why they should stay here," Granger quickly said. She looked at Ron. "I'm very grateful for your help - I owe you my freedom and possibly my life - but this isn't your war. You've got your family and life here."

That was true. But it was his life. And Ron was the one who decided when to risk it. And for what or whom. "So?" he said. "Mum and Dad taught us all to do what's right, not what's easy."

Contrary to his expectations, that line shut her up.

It didn't shut up Sirius, of course - there wasn't much, if anything, that would shut up the man, in Ron's experience. "Boys! I've been to war. It's not heroic, it's not fun - it's bloody dangerous! And this isn't even a proper war - it's a damn civil war. Insurrections. Death squads. Like that mess in Iraq. And with magic! Not even a tank would protect you, I wager!"

"Hermione's going back to war," Luna pointed out.

"Into a witch war, where we couldn't do anything. We wouldn't have dragged civilians into combat in the Falklands," Sirius replied.

"We're not civilians," Harry shot back.

"You're not a soldier, either," Ginny told him. "You're a police officer." Who had killed more people in the line of duty than Sirius, as Ron knew.

"And we're probably better prepared for this kind of war," Ron said. "We've fought terrorists before."

"You haven't fought wizards," Granger told him.

"The basic principles are the same," he told her, hoping that he was correct.

"You don't know anything about magical combat," Sirius said. "How can you prepare for a war if you don't know what the enemy can do?"

"Dr Granger can tell us," Harry said.

"You could probably give us a lecture on magical combat," Ron added with a grin.

No one seemed to find that funny, though. Granger glared at him, though he had expected that.

"I don't want you to go to war," Ginny told Harry. "I already worry about you when you are at work."

"We don't know if there's a war," Ron said. "It's been seven years since Dr Granger left."

"The First Blood War lasted a decade, depending on what you consider its start" - Granger proved his earlier joke correct - "Most put the start at the first use of the Dark Mark following an attack, but some - correctly, I believe - attribute several killings of key government officials in the months before that to the Death Eaters, and, therefore, consider the war to have started with those murders."

"And what if the war's over and the enemy won? Won't they detect the portal, gate, whatever you're building? And what if they invade us?" Sirius changed tack.

"They haven't invaded muggle Britain. Why would they go after a whole new world without magic?" Granger retorted. "There's nothing here that they couldn't get in my world. There's precious little that they would want in the first place."

"There's you," Sirius said.

Ron saw her purse her lips before she answered: "They wouldn't know it was my doing. I'd leave the country - go to France, probably. Claim I'd been hiding for seven years."

"Would anyone who knew you believe that?" Ron asked her.

She glared at him, then spat: "I can't leave my friends to their fates!"

He didn't look at her while she wiped her eyes after her outburst.

"Of course you couldn't!" Luna said, glaring at the others, including Ron. "And we won't let you go back alone."

"I said that all along, didn't I?" Ron pointed out.

"I know why he's going - he's stupid," Ginny snapped. "But why are you going?" she asked Harry.

"Ron's my best friend," Harry said as if that explained it.

Well, it did. It also made Ron the target of both Sirius and Ginny's glares.

He met them with a smile. Sometimes, you had to do what was right, not what was easy. And it didn't hurt that doing the right thing would let him visit another dimension - a realm of magic.

"And what about the risk to our world?" Sirius wouldn't let this go.

"We'll minimise it, as I said," Granger replied. "We'll sneak in. There are a few caches we had prepared, in case the worst came to pass. I can get a new wand there and other supplies. Then we can gather information - and stay in muggle Britain, where it's safer."

"Yes! We know all about hiding from the authorities!" Luna cheered.

"If the situation is… worse than anticipated, we'll return at once and discuss further steps." She cocked her head at Sirius. "Is that acceptable?"

"I want to be involved," he shot back.

"We can do that," Harry said at once. "Granger's calling the shots, after all."

"The Phoenix Gruppe is funding you." Sirius shook his head. "I knew I should have bought a Scorpion for old time's sake when New Zealand sold theirs."

"They were broken," Harry told him. "They never worked."

"They could have been fixed. I've got the money."

"And you wouldn't have been allowed to keep the gun functional," Harry went on.

"Phoenix Gruppe could replace it."

"And you don't have a crew for it." Harry glared at him. "And no, we won't play crew for you."

"I could drive!" Luna piped up. "Daddy taught me how to drive tracked vehicles."

Ron was suddenly very glad that Sirius didn't actually have a tank.

"Well… Some of those Scorpions should still be available, for the right price." Sirius rubbed his chin. "And it would be a nice vehicle to get around the estate with if it's too cold or wet for the horses. Fastest tank, ever!"

"Sirius!" Harry all but hissed. "You just told us that this isn't a conventional war. It's an insurrection! A magical civil war! There's no place for a light tank. Or any tank!"

"Tanks are very useful in insurrections. They protect you much better than other vehicles," the older man retorted.

"A Scorpion's not a Challenger," Ron pointed out, ignoring Luna's frown - presumably at having her tank driving dreams spoiled.

"Indeed," Granger cut in, "a tank of any kind would be completely useless in the kind of war we fought. It's not mobile enough to actually reach a fight before it's over, and it would be quite easily dealt with by a competent wizard. Even if it were too large to be transfigured into cheese or something similar, a bog could be conjured right underneath it, sinking it in seconds."

"You need to see the tank first before you can destroy it," Sirius replied. "We were very good at hiding and preparing ambushes. And the gun will hit an enemy out to two thousand yards."

"And what if the fight is in the middle of a city?" Ron asked.

"Hermione can turn it invisible!" Luna said. "They'll never see it coming."

"They'll hear it," Harry replied.

"She can silence it as well! Or shrink it and carry it with her!"

Luna was far too enthusiastic about tank warfare, in Ron's opinion.

"That's an excellent idea, Luna!"

And so was Sirius.

"I can't just wave my wand - if I had one - to turn a tank invisible and silent," Granger told him. "Well, I could, with serious effort. But that wouldn't be a proper enchantment. And it might affect the tank's electronics."

"But others could do it?"

"Yes," Granger admitted. "But that still leaves the problem of actually transporting a tank - first through a portal, and then to a hiding place - and it still wouldn't be useful. Not to mention that driving an invisible tank on the road would be a danger to all the other road users."

Ron could imagine that. But he could also imagine how enchanting the thing to fly would solve that issue - provided it kept low to the ground to avoid air traffic. And… "How fast could a vehicle fly?" he asked.

He thought Granger mumbled 'not you as well' under her breath, but he wasn't sure. She certainly glared at him, though.

* * *

Two hours later, he licked his lips, took a deep breath, then knocked on the door to her room. "Dr Granger?"

After a few seconds - which felt much longer - he heard her voice. "Yes?"

"Are you decent?"

"That's a peculiar way of asking if you can enter my room," came the more than slightly sarcastic reply.

"Is that a yes?"

For a moment, he feared he had pushed too far, but then the door opened, and Granger was frowning at him. She was decent - sort of. Her tank top and shorts were a little more revealing than he was used to from her - not counting his dreams. It also made him, still in his slacks and shirt, feel slightly overdressed.

"Can I come in?"

She scoffed but stepped to the side. Bare feet - no wonder he hadn't heard her steps.

"I'll take that to mean yes," he said lightly as he stepped past her, making her snort.

"So, why did you want to visit?" she asked as she closed the door.

He sat down on the chair at the desk - which was covered in parchment and smiled, if a little weakly. "I came to apologise. I got a little carried away. Sorry." But who wouldn't have been enthusiastic about a flying, invisible tank?

She sniffed. "You and everyone else but for Harry and Ginny." She blinked. "Mr Potter and Miss Weasley, I mean." Who had retired to Harry's room shortly after dessert, for obvious reasons.

"You know," he told her, "we've been in three shoot-outs together now. Shouldn't we start using our first names?"

She laughed at that - though it sounded a little forced... no, reluctant - as she sat down on the bed. "I guess there are a few things you can't share without ending up liking each other, hm?"

That sounded like a comment with a lot of backstory. "You seem to be speaking from experience," he told her.

She snorted. "Did I ever tell you how I became best friends with my Harry and my Ron?"

He shook his head. "Not in detail. You were in the same year at your magical boarding school."

"The same house. But that wasn't the reason we became friends - well, in a way, it was." She shook her head. "It started with a troll breaking into the school, and me having a cry in the bathroom..."

* * *

"You fought a twelve-foot-tall troll?" He couldn't quite keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"I mostly cowered. Ron - my Ron - and my Harry fought it. And defeated it," she replied.

'My Ron' grated on his nerves. It sounded so possessive. Or something. And all that after he made her cry? "And that happened at your school."

"It was a diversion for an attempt to steal the Philosopher's Stone."

"That's real?"

"Was real. It was destroyed after our first year. At least that's what we were told." She shrugged. "It might have been a lie to protect its owner. At the time, we didn't question it."

"Dumbledore told you that?" He raised his eyebrows.

"My world's Dumbledore." She narrowed her eyes at his expression. "He wasn't like this one's."

"Or was better at hiding it," Ron retorted.

She bit her lower lip at that, even as she glared at him. He refrained from smirking - it was obvious that she wanted to contradict him, but couldn't. Not without lying.

"Anyway, that was a horrible experience."

"Your school years weren't exactly perfectly safe, either," she told him.

Pettigrew. He remembered that she'd read about the incident in that stupid magazine. Shrugging, he said: "We were just facing a man. Not a monster."

Her sniff told him that she wasn't falling for his attempt to downplay the incident. But she wasn't pushing, either. He nodded. "Well, I can see why you three became best friends." Events like that forged bonds. Like combat.

She smiled in return. She looked nostalgic - a little sad as well.

He stood. "Well, I should head to bed."

She slipped off the bed. "It's getting late."

For a moment, they faced each other without saying anything. Ron had the sudden urge to lean forward and embrace her. Instead, he nodded again. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Ron."

He kept smiling all the way to his room.

* * *

**No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, July 26th, 2005**

Between Harry's odd hours as a police officer, and Ginny's career leading to her travelling the globe, they were effectively having a long-distance relationship. Ron knew that. He also knew that neither of them liked it, even though they wouldn't consider changing careers, either. And he was no stranger to seeing both of them tired but very happy at the breakfast table.

But he couldn't help envying them. He hadn't had a steady relationship since Luna - few women could handle his working hours and the danger. Harry was very lucky that Ginny could.

He sighed as he refilled his cup and grabbed The Times.

"Is something wrong, Ron?" Ginny asked.

"Hm?" He raised his head and looked at her, hoping very much that she was wearing something under that robe. Unlike the time she had surprised Harry at home, and Ron had happened to visit as well. She didn't sound smug, he noted. Which meant this was Ginny trying to help him. Damn. "I'm fine. Just a little tired - I didn't sleep too well," he lied.

"Oh?" She looked at the empty spot at the table.

He rolled his eyes. "Not like that." Not like them.

"So nothing happened?" Harry asked.

Ron frowned at his friend. Harry had been very much occupied, so how had he noticed Ron's visit? "Did you bug the hallway?"

"Luna didn't want to disturb you two," Ginny revealed.

"Where is she, anyway?"

"Checking the net," Harry replied. "She wanted to catch a friend of hers before they went to bed."

Ron pressed his lips together. Luna didn't have friends on the net - she had contacts.

"Don't try to distract us!" Ginny cut in. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened," Ron told her. "I just apologised to Hermione for annoying her with our talk about flying tanks."

"Oh! It's 'Hermione' now?" Ginny smirked.

He rolled his eyes. "There are a few things you can't share without ending up liking each other..." he started to quote Hermione.

"Oh, really? It's not the other way around?"

Of course she would misunderstand what he meant! And Harry was chuckling.

Ron shook his head and focused on The Times.

* * *

"So, which shop are we hitting first?" Ginny asked an hour later, as they gathered in the entrance hall. "You have to pretty much buy a whole household, right? For your new home? Clothes, furniture, cosmetics, bedsheets, favourite mug and teapot..."

"Books," Ron said. He didn't think A Feast for Crows was out already, but perhaps...

"Yes," Hermione agreed, nodding.

"Seriously?" Ginny shook her head, though she seemed amused rather than annoyed. "Well, I should have expected that. When Ron moved out, he bought shelves for his books before he bothered buying non-essential stuff like pans, pots and dishes…"

Perhaps she was a little annoyed, Ron corrected himself. "Well, my favourite book shop is on the way to whatever other shops we need to visit."

"Only if you're driving," Harry said.

"You're not driving with Ginny around," Ron replied with a grin.

"Hey!" Ginny glared at him.

"And they have all the magazines I need, too!" Luna chimed in, if a little belatedly. Well, she had visited the shop often enough when they were a couple, Ron reminded himself.

"Let's go then," Sirius said. "We can take the SUV."

Which would fit all six of them comfortably and leave enough room in the boot for essential purchases.

"So, are you a fan of fantasy novels?" Ginny asked as they descended the stairs. "Or do you think they are weird, having real magic?"

"I prefer non-fiction books, actually," Hermione told her.

"That covers a lot since magic has been revealed to be real," Luna said. "How many fantasy novels could be considered 'based on a true story'?"

"Those aren't exactly non-fiction," Hermione replied.

"Certainly not if written by Skeeter," Harry added.

And that killed the conversation until they reached the garage. "I'm driving," Sirius announced. "It's my car."

"His replacement tank," Ginny stage-whispered to Hermione.

"It actually has better all-round armour than his tank," Luna pointed out. "This car's got B7-level of ballistic protection."

"It lacks a gun, though," Sirius complained. "And it's not quite as able in rough terrain."

"Because it weighs almost as much as a tank," Harry said.

"Speed isn't armour," Ron told him. The Royal Navy had learned that at the Battle of Jutland.

"Stop complaining about my car and get in, everyone!" Sirius exclaimed, clapping his hands. "We don't have all day!"

Ron ended up in the middle row, next to Hermione, with Harry and Ginny in the back and Luna riding shotgun.

"At least we're not behind the lovebirds," he told Hermione as they stopped at the first crossing.

She laughed, briefly, and nodded. "Oh, I've seen worse."

He saw her smile fade a little and her eyes unfocus as she remembered - right before a bullet struck the windshield and Luna screamed.

* * *

"_What?" Harry all but yelled. She controlled herself better, but she felt the same._

"_I said I'm not going into hiding." Ginny glared at him, hands on her hips. "You haven't gone deaf over the summer, have you?"_

"_But…"_

_Ginny cut him off. "If you can risk your life fighting them, I can do my part, too."_

"_You're sixteen," she pointed out to the other witch._

"_I fought Death Eaters when I was fifteen!" Ginny retorted. "You were there, Hermione!"_

_She knew that. "But that was before they took over the Ministry. Now they can use the Trace to track you. You'd be a liability."_

_Ginny scoffed. "The Trace? Please! Bill got rid of it."_

"_What?"_

"_What did you expect? He's a Curse-Breaker, and it's a standard enchantment. Easy to dispel if you know how." Ginny grinned. "Mum and Dad asked him to do it so I would be able to use magic if I was in danger."_

"_I don't think they want you to risk yourself," Harry said._

"_Tough." Ginny scoffed again. "I'm already in danger as a blood-traitor. And you need all the help you can get."_

_She stiffened. Did Ginny know about their task? How?_

"_Oh, relax!" The other witch shook her head. "I don't know what you're supposed to do. But I know Harry has an important task - I know him, after all," she added, smiling at the still scowling Harry. "So, I'll be joining you."_

_She shook her head. "No, you won't!"_

"_The hell I won't!"_

"_We've been training for this for a year. You haven't," she told her. "You wouldn't be risking just yourself, you'd put all of us at risk. And especially Harry." Without Occlumency, Ginny wouldn't be able to resist the Horcruxes' effect. Not after what she went through with the diary._

"_This isn't about being able to fight," Harry explained._

"_What?" Ginny exclaimed._

_She glared at Harry. He was coming close to revealing their task. Dumbledore had been quite clear about the need to keep it a secret - from everyone._

"_Please. You can't come with us." He embraced her. "I'm sorry."_

_She turned and left them when Ginny started to cry._


	14. Chapter 14: The Road Trip

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 14: The Road Trip**

**Islington, London, July 26th, 2005**

A spiderweb of cracks covered half the windshield as Sirius pressed the gas pedal and the SUV accelerated across the crossing. Another shot hit the windshield and also failed to penetrate. Luna stopped screaming and ducked down. Hermione grabbed her bag.

Sniper, Ron thought. Just like with Scrimgeour and Bones. If not for the bulletproof glass, Sirius would've been hit - and possibly killed. He drew his gun. "Expect company!" he snapped. They had shot at the driver to immobilise them.

"Can't see anyone," Harry reported. "Looks… there! Three o'clock, Mercedes, speeding."

Ron glanced over his shoulder as Sirius turned, driving away from the approaching car. Or trying to - the armoured SUV wasn't exactly a race car. But if the other car was catching up, that meant it wasn't armoured very much.

Harry had come to the same conclusion since he was already climbing over his seat into the boot, where they had placed their bags. "Get down!" he yelled as he rifled through the sports bag, pulling out his carbine.

Hermione was still rummaging through her bag, so Ron pushed her head down to the bench, ignoring her yelp of protest. "They won't send just one car after us!" Not after Clissold Park. He looked around. He knew this area. If they wanted to catch the SUV in a pincer attack… "They'll cut us off at the next crossing!"

The first shots were hitting the rear of the car, but Harry had the carbine out and yelled: "Get down! I'm opening the rear window!"

"What?" Hermione yelped.

"He needs to shoot back," Ron explained.

"Hold on!" Sirius screamed. A moment later, the car almost rolled over as he took a too-tight turn on to the pavement, narrowingly avoiding getting rammed by another Mercedes from the side. Screaming pedestrians were jumping to the side as Sirius accelerated next to the Mercedes.

They would be trying to pass them, to cut them off, Ron knew. Probably got stuck in traffic or they would've attacked at the same time as the other car. "Stay down!" he yelled, lunging over Hermione to hit the button to lower the window on her side as the two vehicles drove parallel to one another. And the windows on the Mercedes were being lowered as well!

Ron was a little faster, however, starting to fire while the bloke opposite him was still moving his SMG around to take aim. Most of Ron's bullets missed, but one clipped the man's head, and he fell back, taking his SMG with him.

But the man's accomplice had brought his own gun to bear, and Ron had to duck down as a volley of bullets hit the armoured window. He did a tactical reload under cover.

"Ginny, lower the window!" Harry yelled.

Ron glanced over - his friend had his carbine ready. A moment later, the window started to open. Harry jammed the muzzle through the gap as soon as it was wide enough and opened fire. A burst went wide when Sirius drove over something - Ron hoped it wasn't someone - and the car bucked, but the next burst was on target, and the shooter went down. Ron came up again and emptied his magazine through the open window of the passenger seat.

The car swerved to the side and crashed into a parked limousine. Either Ron had hit the driver, or they had lost control while evading.

That left the Mercedes behind them. Where at least two people were busy peppering Sirius's car with SMGs or rifles.

"Get down! Now I'm opening the rear window!" Harry yelled.

"I can use Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder!" Granger shouted.

"No need," Harry replied.

"Save it for emergencies!" Ron added, crouching on his seat, stabilising himself with his free hand as he took aim at the driver side of the pursuing car.

Harry flipped the window - or what was left of it - open and they started firing.

The other car's windshield wasn't armoured to the same degree as Sirius's, and Harry's first salvo put several holes into it. Ron didn't see if his own shots hit anything since the Mercedes abruptly pulled to the right and rolled over. The shooter hanging out of a window on the passenger side wasn't quick enough to either get out or back inside and was caught between the vehicle and the street as the car rolled over them, while the shooter on the driver side was thrown clear and landed on the pavement, hard.

"Any others?" Sirius yelled.

"Don't see anyone," Ron called back after looking around.

"Keep driving!" Harry snapped. "The sniper's still out there!"

"I am!" Sirius retorted. "To CI5!"

"No!" Harry, Ron and Hermione yelled in unison.

"They'll expect that," Ron went on. "We need to ditch the car and disappear."

"That sounds familiar," Hermione mumbled as they took another turn.

"We can take the Tube," Harry said.

"I hope my insurance covers attacks by terrorists," Sirius complained as he swerved around a slower car. "This car was expensive."

"You were planning to buy a tank yesterday," Harry told him.

"That's different! And a tank wouldn't have been wrecked like this! Hey, Dr Granger - can you repair it with magic?"

"If I had a wand. But I wouldn't do it, anyway, since repairing the car would reveal the existence of magic," Hermione replied.

"Focus on the street!" Harry yelled. "There might be more of them around, and we're vulnerable."

"We're also attracting a great deal of attention," Ron pointed out.

"Can't be helped," Sirius retorted.

"Which is why we need to ditch the car," Harry repeated Ron's argument.

Five minutes later, as they rushed down into the next Tube station, with their larger weapons stashed in Hermione's bag, almost trampling some of the slower commuters, Ron couldn't help thinking that an invisible flying car would have been very handy right now.

* * *

**Greenwich, London, July 26th, 2005**

An hour and several stations later, they were in Greenwich. Ron didn't think anyone had managed to tail them - there was a lot of surveillance on the Tube, but few would be able to access it.

"Where are we going?" Hermione, her distinctive hair hidden under a cap she had pulled out of her bag, asked as soon as they entered a narrow side alley.

"We've got a car parked around here, for emergencies," Harry told her.

"Another one?" She shook her head. "How many of them do you have?"

"Not enough," Ron replied with a grin.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's a quote from Moody, right?"

"Right."

"Figures."

"Can we all fit into it? Or does Hermione need to shrink some of us? If so, I volunteer," Luna said after they had crossed another street, perking up for the first time since the attack.

"We just need the money in the car and some gear, then we'll buy a used van," Harry told her. Ron frowned at his friend as Luna's mood fell again.

"And what will we do then?" Hermione asked. "That was the third attack. And right after our visit to CI5."

"You mean there's another mole? After the police started checking the entire department?" Sirius sounded incredulous.

"Or they had you under surveillance," Harry said. "Or Ginny."

"What?" Ron's sister whirled on Harry. "You mean this was my fault?"

"No," Harry was quick to reply. "Most likely, they had Grimmauld Place under surveillance. Yaxley would have been able to get the address."

Ron agreed. "We should have expected this. It was our fault." They had already known that their families were in danger. But they hadn't expected things to escalate like this. Not after the Secret Service had become involved as well. They should have, of course. Moody would have their hides. Well, if they weren't going to quit CI5 anyway.

"You can't go into hiding for the rest of your life!" Ginny snapped.

"It's only until I finish my project," Hermione said.

"Really? And they'll magically stop looking for you?" Sirius shook his head. "Even if you return to your world, they'll keep searching. And they'll go after Harry and Ron to find out where you are. Or the Grangers here. Should everyone have to hide forever?"

Ron saw Hermione pale a little at that. "But…" She trailed off, biting her lower lip.

"Or to get leverage on you," Luna added.

"That means we'll have to find Yaxley and whoever else is behind this, and stop them," Ron said. Before the information about Hermione's origin - and it couldn't be anything else that would drive anyone to risk so much - spread.

"But you quit CI5," Ginny retorted.

"Technically, we're still police officers. Just on leave," Harry told her. "But you're right - we don't have access to CI5's resources. We'll have to rely on Dumbledore and Grindelwald."

"What?" Sirius said. "You don't trust them."

"We don't," Harry confirmed. "But we don't have any alternative. We can't trust CI5, either."

"And the government can't know about this, or we'll all get disappeared!" Luna said, nodding several times.

And she might be correct, Ron knew. But they really didn't have any other options. "We also need to inform CI5 about the attack. And that we'll be going into hiding again," he said as they finally reached the garage they had rented under an assumed name.

"At least they can't complain about that," Sirius muttered.

"They'll complain anyway," Harry told him. "Especially Dawlish."

Hermione sniffed at the name.

"Was his counterpart a Death Eater?" Luna asked.

"No, just an idiot," Hermione replied.

"No different to ours, then," Ron added with a smirk as he opened the boot and pulled out the bag hidden under the spare tire. "Here are the burner phones. We'll have to wait on calling CI5 or Dumbledore until we're moving, though."

"I know," Ginny said with a glare. "I'm not stupid."

"We'll have to take the car and buy a van," Ron continued, ignoring her outburst. She had just been shot at, after all.

"You and Harry?" Hermione asked.

"No. Harry will stay with you." Ron looked at his friend, then glanced at Ginny.

"Right."

"And you can't come with us since we don't have fake IDs prepared for you," Ron told the others. The Met would be out in force - they had barely managed to leave the area of the attack before it had been locked down.

"I have a fake ID of my own!" Luna spoke up.

Of course she'd have one! "You didn't mention that before."

"I didn't want to force you into a conflict of loyalties," Luna told him. "Between your duty as a police officer to investigate a crime and your friendship with me."

"Will it stand up to a check?" Harry asked. "They won't just glance at it." Their own were in the system. Illegal, but effective, as Moody would say.

"Oh, it will!" Luna nodded with a wide smile. "The government's computer security isn't as good as they think it is. Sabotaged by the shadow government so they can manipulate them more easily."

"You hacked the government's databases?" Sirius laughed. "Oh, that's great."

It was also highly illegal, of course.

"I didn't say that!" Luna replied - but her smile confirmed it.

"Well, let's go then," Ron said.

* * *

**East End, London, July 26th, 2005**

Ron's black beard itched. As did his black wig. But the beard was worse. And while the wig barely reached his shoulders, the beard scratched his chest whenever he looked down. Compared to that, wearing leather biker clothes in summer was only a mild annoyance. If Hermione had her wand, she probably could have conjured a perfectly comfortable disguise. Or a magical disguise - hadn't she mentioned a potion to change one's shape?

But if Hermione had her wand, they wouldn't need to disguise themselves at all, since she could teleport them around. Until she went back to her world.

He shook his head. He had to focus on buying a van, not on what-ifs.

"That's your best van, mister?"

At least Luna wasn't getting distracted by her disguise. The Daisy Dukes and the jeans vest over a hot pink crop top with a matching headband weren't too far from her usual outfits. And a blonde hippie-esque girlfriend fit a biker.

"Oh, yes. German quality. You can't kill a van like this!"

That was because it looked like it had been killed twice already and then stitched back together with parts from two other vans afterwards.

"Really?" Luna bent down to study the wheels and the undercarriage.

Ron caught the middle-aged used car vendor staring at her bottom and growled, which made the lech back off and pale a little. Sometimes, maintaining your cover fit the situation perfectly.

"It looks like it'll hold up!" Luna announced, with her head halfway under the car.

Ron nodded - he trusted her assessment - and turned towards the vendor. "How much?"

A few minutes of haggling later, they were the proud owners of an old, battered Volkswagen van that could have fit into any seventies road trip movie. And which smelled as if it had served as a marijuana delivery van ever since that decade.

Well, it only needed to last the trip back to Scotland.

And, as Ron found out quickly, it did handle decently. "Good choice," he told Luna as he steered the van out of the vendor's parking lot.

"Thanks! It's perfect! No one will suspect that a few good people taking on a world-wide conspiracy would ever drive such an obviously rebellious van!"

"They wouldn't?"

"Of course not! They'd expect us to try and fit in by driving the most average, boring car!"

"Hm. Like the Dursleys?" That would fit them like a glove, in Ron's opinion.

"Harry's boring relatives?"

"Harry's greedy relatives," he corrected her. They only ever visited Harry and Sirius to 'network', as far as he knew. "But they're boring, too."

She snorted. "Sheep controlled by the state media."

Ron nodded in agreement as he slowed down at the next crossing. "Say, did you hack Dumbledore's systems?"

"Oh, I wish!" He didn't have to look at her to know she was pouting. "But his system is frustratingly good. I have to be extra-careful to worm my way into it, and, so far, I haven't gotten very far, yet."

"Well, you knew he was good, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I didn't fully realise just how good he is!" She huffed and crossed her arms, sliding down in her seat. "Old people shouldn't have such good computer security!"

"He probably has hired help doing that for him."

"No doubt. But people like him are supposed to be so arrogant that they sabotage their own security. He's not cooperating."

Ron suppressed a laugh at that.

"You know," Luna went on, "perhaps this attack was a false flag operation by Dumbledore. To scare Hermione into returning to her secret lab as soon as possible." She sat up straight again and leaned over. "What do you think?"

"It's possible," he said - it certainly wasn't impossible. Just unlikely. "But I think he wouldn't have needed to do this, and he knows that. Hermione won't stay away from her lab for long."

Luna snorted. "Everyone has a weakness, and they know hers!"

He took the next turn, then shrugged again. "Or they think they do." Hermione wasn't as easily led along by the nose as Dumbledore might think. But she wasn't as skilled at subterfuge as she thought she was, either.

"You like her."

He still had wet dreams featuring her. But that wasn't a subject he would ever talk about with anyone. So he picked the safe answer. "She saved my life."

Luna sniffed. "That's true, and yet not. You know what I mean."

He shrugged. "She's smart and stubborn. And a witch."

"And you like her."

He tilted his head. Not quite nodding.

Luna snorted again, looking pleased. "She would probably be good for you. And you for her."

"She's going back to her world," he pointed out. "Where her Ron is waiting." Who could work magic and had been her best friend for years. Ron hated him already.

"Mhh." Luna was smiling.

He didn't ask what she was thinking. She was too optimistic, anyway.

* * *

**Greenwich, London, July 26th, 2005**

"Please tell me that this is actually a carefully disguised high-end vehicle that only looks like a rust heap."

Hermione obviously didn't know much about cars. "This is a classic," Ron told her as he got out of the van next to their temporary hideout.

"And it's mechanically sound," Luna added. "None of the important parts are rusting."

"So we won't die to mechanical failure. We will die from blood poisoning after sitting down amidst rusty edges and the accumulated dirt of several decades." Hermione sniffed the air. "It smells like cannabis."

"Olfactory camouflage," Ron replied. "Better shower before visiting Mum and Dad," he added, nodding at Ginny.

"I'm coming with you."

"What?"

She was pushing her chin forward and glaring at him. "It's the safest course of action."

"We're being hunted," Ron retorted. "We're certainly not safe." And more people would now be wondering why someone was using so many resources to get Hermione. They might not realise that she could do magic, but they would soon understand that her research had to be more valuable than everyone had thought.

"It's safer than being separated." She nodded at Harry. "People know about us. They'll try to get me to get to him no matter where I am. And the usual security on the tour won't be able to stop them. Not when they're willing to attack like they did today."

She was right about that, of course. The people after Hermione had attacked in the middle of London, on a busy day, twice so far. They might attempt to grab Ginny from the court. And Ron didn't think that they'd care how many spectators got hurt or killed during an attempt, either. But there were better alternatives to coming with them. "You'd be safer with Mum and Dad."

"They'd lock me up in the house. Perhaps the basement," she shot back.

"Dad wouldn't!" Ron shook his head.

"Mum would."

Luna giggled as she nodded in agreement. Ron sighed. Mum was a little overprotective. Still… "There's also protective custody."

"So I can be locked up in a basement without anyone I know?" Ginny sneered. "I'm coming with you. If it's safe enough for Hermione and Luna, it's safe enough for me."

"It's not exactly safe," Hermione pointed out. "We don't know how far we can trust our 'hosts'."

"So? I couldn't trust whoever the police sent to guard me, either."

Harry hadn't said anything so far. Ron looked at him, and his friend shrugged. So, he wasn't going to be any help. Ron ground his teeth. He didn't like going there, but… "You'd be another person we have to protect, though, making our task harder." She should get the hint now.

Ginny's glare intensified - she knew what he insinuated. "Have you forgotten how many self-defence courses I had to take before Harry stopped being stupid? I can remind you," she added, taking a step towards him. "And it would count as the regular training Harry also insists I do."

Ron scowled at her. He could take her in a straight fight. Usually. But she'd probably manage to hurt him - she was too fit, too trained and too nasty to be easily subdued. He glared at Harry, instead. That was his friend's fault.

Sirius laughed. "She's got you there, Ron."

Ron eyed the older man. "Let me guess: You want to come as well."

"I am coming with you as well," Sirius said, grinning. "Everything that applies to Ginny applies to me as well. And I know how to handle a gun."

"As long as it's strapped to a tank," Harry cut in.

"I'm a qualified marksman with combat experience," Sirius shot back. "If Ginny can come, I can come, too."

Ron decided to blame Harry for that as well.

* * *

**Near Hackthorpe, Cumbria, Britain, July 27th, 2005**

"This was a bad idea," Ron heard Hermione mutter before her head appeared next to him as she squeezed through the gap between his and the front passenger seat.

"Hm?" he asked, glancing at her before focusing on the road again. Even - or especially - right after midnight, the motorways weren't free of dangers.

"Nothing," she replied in a whisper, leaning back in the passenger seat. "Can't sleep with the air smelling like a hemp plantation. And the lumpy seats."

"The others don't seem to have problems sleeping," he commented.

She sniffed. "Sirius's claims that the military taught him to be able to sleep anywhere, any time, might not have been bragging. Harry and Ginny are using each other as pillows. And Luna…"

"I know." Luna could sleep in any seat as long as it was soft enough.

"I'm going to smell like a pothead for days. At least I can ditch the clothes afterwards."

"You shouldn't," he said.

"Why not? Do you think I'll need them as a disguise again?"

"Yes. But also, you look good in that dress," he said, without thinking.

He knew without looking at her that she was frowning at him with narrowed eyes before she snorted. "Thank you. But the seventies aren't me."

"Vintage fashion is a thing," he told her. And the strong colours of the dress did suit her. Just as the short hemline suited her legs.

"A thing, yes. Not a _good _thing, mind you," she said in a hushed voice. "Or would you like to wear polyester suits?"

He chuckled at that. "Well, they look better than robes, at least."

When she didn't immediately reply, he glanced at her again. She looked pensive. "It would be a change to wear robes again."

"Did you have to wear robes?"

"At Hogwarts, yes. It's the school uniform. And the unofficial Ministry uniform. Even Mr Weasley wore robes to work, and he loved muggle fashion."

"Like a suit and tie."

"Yes."

He chuckled again. That did sound like Dad, just with different interests. He passed a slower car - with an older driver, as he saw when he overtook it - then returned to the left lane again. "It sounds weird," he commented.

But she didn't answer. When he glanced at her again, he noticed that she had fallen asleep.

He kept glancing at her for the next two hours, until it was Harry's turn to drive.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 27th, 2005**

"So that's the Black Lake. I thought it would be bigger," Sirius said as they drove along its shore. "What with a giant squid and a village of merpeople located in its counterpart."

"The giant squid isn't actually that big," Hermione told him. "Nothing like in the movies you've probably seen."

"Also, no talk of magic once we've arrived," Harry cut in.

"We could do a double bluff," Sirius replied. "Make them think we're using magic as a code for technology."

"That won't work," Ron said, suppressing a yawn. He hadn't slept well in the van. And not for long enough, either. At least he had been able to get rid of his wig and beard once they had entered the Highlands. "Dumbledore and Grindelwald are too smart for that. You would probably make them think about magic in the first place. They already know that alternate dimensions exist; assuming that magic exists wouldn't be a big step."

"Or psionics, which is totally different from magic," Ginny added. Sitting behind her - Harry was driving, so naturally Ginny had commandeered the passenger seat - Ron couldn't see her face, but he knew she was smirking.

"Psionics?" Hermione asked. "Is that from Dr Who?"

"It's a sort of not-magic magic in Dungeons and Dragons," Luna explained.

"Yes. Ron was very insistent that it wasn't magic," Ginny said.

Ron frowned. "I should never have let you play D&D with us when we were kids."

"Mum would have made you play with me," Ginny retorted.

"And it was fun," Luna said. "Even though the monsters were very unrealistic."

Hermione snorted at that.

"It's true," Luna told her. "Most wouldn't have been able to sustain themselves where we found them in the game. Some wouldn't have been able to enter their own lair."

"That was a mistake," Ron defended his eleven-year-old self. "And it only happened once."

"Anyway," Harry cut in again, "no talk of magic once we arrive. And assume we're always under surveillance inside the building, or near it. The only time we can talk freely is when we're taking a run along a random route around the lake."

"I'm having flashbacks to Sandhurst," Sirius groaned. "Tell me we're not doing the morning run routine."

"We're doing the morning and evening run routine," Harry told him. "You were the one who insisted on coming along."

"Ginny did as well!"

"I'm not the one complaining about a little running." Ginny chuckled. "In fact, I'm glad that I will be able to keep in shape. Somewhat, at least."

Ron rolled his eyes behind her back. Yes, everyone knew who was the fittest among them. He changed the subject. "Also, be on your best behaviour. We didn't announce your arrival."

"They'll have anticipated it," Harry said, "after hearing about the attack in London. And Ginny's statement about having to recover from yesterday's attack, and not wanting to deal with anyone outside her family, should have been released to the press by now."

"They'll still try to force a concession out of us," Ron retorted.

"That's their capitalist nature," Luna agreed. "They can't let any opportunity to amass more wealth and influence go by."

"Well, they'll be disappointed," Hermione declared. "They need me, and I don't see how housing six instead of four could be a significant drain on their resources."

"Oh, but we have expensive tastes," Sirius said. "Ginny is a celebrity, and I'm used to a style of living befitting my station."

"I'm certain that they can afford a daily order of fish and chips and pizza," Harry replied in a dry tone.

"Don't forget the curry!" Sirius told him, chuckling. "More seriously, I don't think they'll object. The more people who know about this who are here, the fewer they have to hunt down should they decide to stab us in the back."

Now that was a sobering thought.

* * *

Filch was already waiting for them in the underground garage, standing at parade rest with two guards at his back and a scowl on his face like a drill sergeant in a movie. A show of force.

Ron was the first out of the van. Standard procedure. "Mr Filch." He nodded at the man. "You should be aware that we've brought two friends with us after we were attacked in London. I trust quarters have been prepared for them."

Filch's scowl deepened. Probably at some petty ploy being foiled, Ron thought. "I heard."

"Good." Ron looked around, not bothering to be subtle about it as he checked the garage before he nodded at the van. "Clear."

"Of course it's clear," Filch spat, adding something under his breath that Ron didn't catch.

"Trust but verify," Ron replied with a grin.

"Constant vigilance," Harry added.

Ron saw Hermione roll her eyes as she stepped forward. "Ginny Weasley, Sirius Black - Mr Filch. Head of security of this facility."

"Charmed, I'm certain," Sirius said with a wide grin. "Lovely resort you have here. More than meets the eye, right? Good discipline among the staff, too. I like that. Don't see that as often as one should, these days." He nodded with a condescending expression. "Don't bother taking our luggage; we're travelling light."

Filch gritted his teeth as he stepped to the side, letting them go past and into the lift.

"Was that necessary?" Harry asked as soon as the doors closed. His tone left no doubt that it was a rhetorical question.

"Yes," Sirius answered anyway. "I know his sort; he needed a reminder that he's the help."

"I don't think this was the right time to play officer," Harry replied.

"On the contrary! I know a former soldier when I see one." Sirius grinned. "He was probably drummed out of the service."

And probably had a chip on his shoulder about officers, especially the upper-class ones. Ron shook his head. Between Hermione's demanding nature when working and Sirius's attitude, the facility's staff wouldn't warm up to their group any time soon.

Well, that would make it easier to remain on their guard.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 28th, 2005**

What goes around comes around, Ron thought as he struggled to keep pace with Ginny on their first morning run. His little sister had found a way to push herself without running Hermione, Luna and Sirius into the ground - she was literally running circles around those three as their group ran along the shore. As were Ron and Harry, of course.

It was just a little more difficult than Ron liked. Ginny had always been athletic, and since she was only one year younger than him, she'd been his near-equal, physically - until he had entered puberty. He still remembered the tantrum she had thrown the first time he had easily bested her in arm wrestling after a few months at school.

And, judging by the nasty grin his sister was sporting as she glanced over her shoulder before stepping up her own pace, so did she. Well, he hadn't let her forget it for quite a while, back then.

At least he wasn't suffering alone.

He still had to struggle not to let himself fall to the ground at their first break while Ginny kept bouncing on her feet. "Any bugs?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "None that I can detect with this," he answered, holding up his scanner.

"Is that really necessary?" Sirius asked from the ground. "They couldn't have bugged the entire area, could they?"

"You never know," Ron told him. "All it takes is getting sloppy once."

"Moody," Hermione mumbled.

"Yes," Ron said. "Words to live by."

She snorted. As did Ginny. At least Ron's sister wasn't rubbing in her athletic superiority.

"You'd never make it on the tour. And I'm talking about the WTA Tour."

Not overly much, at least.

"Not everyone can be a professional athlete," Hermione retorted. "Some of us have other strengths."

Ron smirked as Ginny frowned. His little sister didn't like insinuations - imagined or not - that she was all brawn and no brains.

"And united, we're much more than our individual strengths!" Luna spoke up.

"As long as we work on our weaknesses," Ginny replied.

"I can't teach anyone physics," Hermione said. "I'm busy doing research. And for magic, you need an inborn talent."

Ron snorted. Perhaps the insinuation hadn't been imagined. Hermione did strike him as rather competitive. Even in areas where she wasn't particularly gifted.

"Physics won't help you defend yourself."

But so was Ginny.

"Only if you lack the imagination to apply your knowledge."

There were entirely too many teeth being bared around here, in Ron's opinion. He cleared his throat. "Unless anyone has anything important to report, Hermione and I will need to go over the cover story again."

They had another dinner with Dumbledore, and possibly Grindelwald, this evening, after all.

* * *

"Fascinating. So a massively stratified society emerged as a result of a much more intense arms race during the Cold War?" Dumbledore asked as he finished his dessert - chocolate cake with ice cream and whipped cream. A delight, Ron had to admit - Dumbledore obviously loved sweets, and his staff knew it.

"I didn't study history or sociology," Hermione replied. "I can only tell you how things are. And possible reasons why my world is more advanced, technologically, than this one. In my world, the military spent huge sums on research since to fall behind would have meant defeat. No matter the cost to society."

"Like Pakistan's efforts to develop nuclear weapons. Or North Korea's." Dumbledore nodded. "Ironically, while the quote of 'being ready to eat grass to get the bomb' is attributed to the former, it's the latter's population who is currently suffering that fate, as far as we can tell."

"I think those are good examples," Hermione replied. "How far would either country have come, had they not wasted so much money on weapons development? And in both countries, the ruling class lives extremely well."

"As long as they're not being assassinated or executed," Harry pointed out.

"Quite." Dumbledore nodded. "However, neither country might have had a choice - their neighbours might have exploited any weakness."

"I'm no expert on politics," Hermione told him. "I focused on physics."

"A fortunate choice. However, given such a huge gap between our technology levels, what kind of weapons did your world develop?"

Ron tensed. They had expected that question - Phoenix Gruppe was an arms producer, after all. At least Grindelwald wasn't present.

"Most of the advanced weapons weren't revealed to the public, but kept secret," Hermione said. "Presumably so the enemy wouldn't be able to develop countermeasures or copy them. However, there were the civilian derivatives - primarily medical advancements - and there were rumours that simply couldn't be quashed. I wasn't privy to classified research in my field, but I know there was research on personal transporters and a sort of force field."

"Really? Teleportation, as seen in some science fiction series?" Dumbledore rubbed his beard, obviously interested. "Such devices would revolutionise warfare - and, of course, intelligence."

"They'd also revolutionise our lives," Luna pointed out.

"Something to be kept in mind when discussing trade." The old man nodded as if he cared more about raising the standard of living than lining his pockets.

"Hermione's world might not be willing to part with their advanced technology," Ron said. "If it becomes wide-spread in our world, the lower classes in Hermione's world might demand it for themselves."

"If they haven't done so already, I doubt they'll start any time soon," Dumbledore retorted. "Your world's major societies seem remarkably stable, Dr Granger."

"From what we could tell, there were special units who dealt with incidents that might upset the population," Hermione said. "I don't think that the majority of such incidents ever made it into the media."

"That would require tight control over all media and news services."

She snorted. "The most popular newspaper in Britain answered to the government. And its biggest competition was a magazine widely regarded as satirical in nature, with a delusional editor-in-chief. And the less said about the wireless media, the better."

"And yet, you decided to fight for this society?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"The alternative was far, far worse. No social mobility at all. A person's worth entirely defined by their birth."

"And the best and brightest of the lower classes eliminated instead of elevated." Dumbledore nodded. "Such a policy tends to lead to large-scale violence as revolutionary sentiments grow."

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I would assume that would happen."

Ron suppressed a wince. They had covered the possible questions, and what to reveal, but this was entering an area they hadn't - couldn't have - covered in depth. Alternate history, of sorts, for a fictional universe.

"Provided, of course, advanced technology cannot be used to stop such developments," the old man went on. "But even so, without an enemy threatening to destroy you, I don't think your society can be maintained indefinitely."

"Reforms can be achieved peacefully, though, as this world's history shows," Hermione said. "Even if that didn't happen in my world's USSR and China."

"But our circumstances were different."

"Yet people are people, always yearning for freedom. You cannot suppress everyone forever - sooner or later, any system will be broken!" Luna chimed in.

"You'll find, my dear, that the devil is, as always, in the details - or, in this case, in the definition of 'sooner' and 'later'," Dumbledore told her. "But I think we've monopolised the discussion for too long."

"Oh, don't stop on our account," Sirius said. "It was fascinating."

Dumbledore's smile didn't slip at all, despite Sirius's obvious sarcasm. "If you insist." He turned to Hermione again. "Were there any smaller wars, such as the invasion of the Falklands? Or low-level conflicts like the Troubles?"

"You mean like a war that wouldn't have happened at all at all if there hadn't been a complete intelligence failure with regards to the Argies' preparations?"

Sirius glared at the old man, but Ron didn't really pay attention. Hermione seemed distracted. Which usually meant she was focused on her past.

* * *

"_Run! Run!"_

_As she turned the corner, moments before a crossbow bolt hit it, exploding as if it were a grenade - enchanted bolts? In goblin hands? - she tried to apparate. It didn't work, of course - as she knew it wouldn't. But old reflexes were hard to change._

_In front of her, Harry turned, wand raised. A moment later, his spell blew up the tunnel behind her, shards of stone pelting her Shield Charm._

"_This way!" Ron yelled, waving at her from a side tunnel._

_It wasn't on the map they had acquired - but the map had been wrong, anyway. Faulty information. And they had no choice. If they stuck to the bigger tunnels, the goblins would run them down._

_She followed Ron, Harry bringing up the rear. They were on… well, the vault level. And the goblins would be blockading the stairs. That left the air shafts - if they could find one. Provided they did actually exist, of course - other than Sally Selwyn's report, no document mentioned air shafts in Gringotts._

_They had to exist, though - goblins wouldn't want to depend solely on Air-Refreshing Charms. Not when they didn't have wands._

_They had to exist._

_She glanced at the bag Harry was carrying. They couldn't die at the hands of the goblin guards. Not when they had found another Horcrux. _

_Not when they were closer than ever to finally defeating Voldemort._

"_Bloody hell!"_

_That was Ron! She pushed on, turning the corner - and stopped next to Ron. _

_And stared at the huge dragon in front of them. Even chained as it was, they couldn't get past the beast. And the goblins were coming. This was… this was..._

"_Bloody hell." Harry had reached them._

"_We need to go back," she told him._

"_The goblins are too close," he replied, looking around. "No time. Get your brooms. And then destroy those chains!"_


	15. Chapter 15: The Albanian Connection

Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. Their help is invaluable.

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Albanian Connection**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 28th, 2005**

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said, standing up. "That brought up memories of my own little war. I think I'll retire for the evening."

"Oh, dear me, I wasn't thinking!" Dumbledore looked appalled at his thoughtlessness. "Please accept my apology for bringing up bad memories."

"Apology accepted."

Ron didn't know which of them was lying more right now. But he knew what he had to do. He stood, nodding at the others, then followed Hermione.

The spymaster wasn't the sort of man to make such a mistake. So his comment had to have been deliberate. But had he merely wanted to find out what would make Hermione crack or had this been an attempt at getting a specific reaction out of her? Probably both, given the man's past.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him as he caught up to her. "That was rather thoughtless of Mr Dumbledore," he said, walking at her side.

"Yes, indeed," she replied. Her tone told him that she didn't believe it had been a mistake, either. "Perhaps he was distracted by Mr Black and Ginny's presence."

A punishment for bringing more people with them? No. Ron shook his head. "I don't think so. He was probably simply lost in your tales."

She frowned at him, then shook her head in turn. "He isn't getting any younger."

Ron shrugged. He didn't think that this was an attempt by Dumbledore to pressure her into working faster. The old man would know such research couldn't really be rushed. Although he would have to feel his age constantly - especially after hearing about the latest attack on Hermione. He sighed. He couldn't get a handle on Dumbledore.

Hermione flashed him a rueful smile. "He's quite the enigma, isn't he?"

So she was none the wiser, either. Ron nodded as they entered the lift.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 29th, 2005**

Had Hermione had another nightmare? Ron couldn't tell. She didn't look well-rested as she prepared for their morning run, but none of them did. Even Ginny looked a little tired, but that was probably due to her sharing a room with Harry.

Of course, if Ron's dream had been real, he'd look even worse. And so would… he buried the thought. He couldn't really compete with a magical Ron. A Ron who had practically grown up with her. But it didn't seem that his subconscious understood that.

She was pretty, but certainly not a supermodel. She was also fairly fit, though she didn't have the curves of a lingerie model. And her hair was usually a mess, barely tamed by the double-strength scrunchies that kept it in a ponytail. She hardly wore makeup - and with Ginny now around, that was even more apparent.

But she had something…

He grit his teeth and focused on stretching and warming up, instead of on her doing the same.

A few minutes later, they were running. So close to the building, there weren't many different routes, so they had to assume the area was bugged, and thus couldn't talk. But Ron didn't mind the silence. Nor the cool morning air. Nor even Ginny pulling ahead again. Though he grinned when she had to backtrack because Harry decided to pick a new route. Teach her to try and do the work of professionals.

A few minutes later, she, Harry and Ron were circling the other three again. It was quite the challenge, actually. Since they were inside the forest, the only paths were trails - and animals didn't walk two or three abreast.

About ten minutes in, Harry called for a break. Hermione had held up a little better, or so it seemed. Or perhaps she had pushed herself a little more with Ginny present. Without planning to, Ron found himself using the same tree as she did to stretch.

She glanced at him, frowning slightly. "Am I doing it wrong again?"

He had been staring! He shook his head. "No, no." He nodded towards her backpack, which contained her beaded bag of holding. "I was just wondering if Dumbledore might suspect that we're hiding weapons somehow, since we didn't take any SMGs or rifles into our rooms."

She pursed her lips. "Didn't we leave two rifles in the car?"

"Yes, we did. But wouldn't he have expected us to do that as a distraction?" Ron tilted his head as he changed positions and started to stretch his arms.

"I think you might be overthinking this," she replied.

"Maybe." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "But we can't underestimate him."

"Our interests align," she said. "He won't do anything to sabotage my research, and he must have realised that harming my friends would negatively affect my work."

Friends. He liked hearing that. But… "He might prefer more control over you. Which he would achieve if you were isolated."

She scowled. "Then he doesn't know me as well as he thinks he does."

She was right, of course - but that wouldn't help anyone if Dumbledore were wrong.

Ron really hated these spy mind games.

* * *

Ginny approached Ron at the second break. She was trying to be subtle about it, doing stretching exercises as she came closer, but, well... she hadn't been trained in tailing people and spotting tails. So he made a point of looking at her right before she was about to speak and enjoyed seeing her pout.

Only for a moment, of course, then she ploughed on and smiled at him, though she showed a bit too many teeth for it to be called sweet. "So… what's between you and Hermione?"

He managed to keep from spitting 'none of your business' at her. "It's 'Hermione' now, is it?"

She shrugged. "It would have been weird if I called her 'Dr Granger' while Luna called her 'Hermione'."

So simple, he thought with some envy.

"But don't change the subject," she went on, frowning at him once more. "What's up with you and her?"

"Nothing." He glanced over his shoulder. Luna was talking to Hermione at the other end of the small clearing. So this had been planned.

She actually rolled her eyes at his answer. "Sure. That's why you follow her around like a puppy."

What? "I'm her bodyguard."

"So's Harry, and he doesn't do that."

He was about to tell her that they had split the tasks but sighed instead. For all the years since they had moved out from their parents' home, she still knew him too well. "It's complicated."

"Really?" She changed her stance and did some squats. Show-off. "Because she was in a relationship with your counterpart?"

"She told you that?" he blurted out, then drew a sharp breath and checked over his shoulder again.

"She didn't have to. Just looking at her as she told us about her best friends was enough. Who, I'll have you know, also included my counterpart."

He shook his head. That was so like Ginny - she'd always hated being left out of whatever her brothers did, no matter how young she had been. Well, so had Ron, actually. He shrugged. "As I said, it's complicated." He couldn't compete with a better version of himself, could he?

She scoffed. "She's been here for seven years. If she hasn't moved on, he surely will have."

"You don't know him."

"I know you," she replied with a smirk.

"Hey!" He glared at her. "I'm not him."

"Well, close enough, from what I can tell."

What? He blinked.

She sighed. "I asked Hermione about your counterpart. She told me about him."

"Me too. And we're very different."

"Not really. You're into sci-fi and fantasy, he's a fan of a wizard sport. And he can do magic."

"Yes." Huge differences.

"So, practically the same." She grinned.

"Even if that were true" - and it wasn't - "that doesn't mean you're right."

"So, you're _not _attracted to her?"

"She's pining for her Ron."

"We'll see about that."

She pushed off the tree before he could react, and then she was too far away for him to call out to her without Hermione overhearing everything.

Damn. He had known letting Ginny come with them would cause trouble.

* * *

Two hours later, Ron was guarding Hermione. Or rather, watching her work at her desk. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep staring at her. And she wasn't even running any experiments at the moment - she was just doing calculations and taking notes. He could really use a good book right now. Or a portable DVD player and a few movies. Bodyguarding someone in an isolated, secure room was boring. Very boring.

He sighed.

"You don't have to be here, you know."

He looked at her. "I actually have to. Regulations."

"What?"

He chuckled to show he had been joking and saw her purse her lips, then smile. "Seriously, I'm safe here. You personally checked all possible avenues of entry, didn't you?"

She was quoting him. He shrugged. "You can never be sure. And it doesn't really matter whether I'm waiting here or in my room." He sighed again. "If only we hadn't been attacked until after our visit to the bookshop."

She laughed at that. "I'd prefer it if we hadn't been attacked at all. The news is going crazy." She shook her head. "I think I've been kidnapped by every terrorist group in existence, according to the tabloids."

He nodded. At least they got the latest newspapers - although usually at noon. "The excitement should die down once news of us having gone to ground again spreads."

"No more kidnapping rumours would be nice. Not as nice as stopping whoever is behind this, though."

He shrugged. "Everyone's working on that. Sooner or later, there should be results."

She didn't look as if she expected anything.

If Ron was honest, neither did he.

* * *

"The quality of the food alone would be sufficient reason to stay here," Sirius announced as he finished the main course in the lounge of their quarters. "Say what you want about Mr Dumbledore, but he knows how to pick his cooks."

Harry snorted. "Says the man who could live on takeaway food for months. Did so, in fact."

"And that's exactly why I can appreciate a good meal," the older man shot back. "Or an excellent meal, like this one." He raised his fork, with which he had speared the last piece of his veal cordon bleu.

Ron slightly shook his head at Sirius's antics. At least, Ginny and, of course, Luna, seemed amused. And, as he saw with a glance, even Hermione was smiling. Although that would change as soon as Sirius mentioned his plans for flying tanks. Plural.

Ron still couldn't tell how serious Sirius actually was - Harry's godfather joked a lot about practically everything. Well, it wasn't important right now. There were more interesting things to ponder.

Such as the question of why Hermione had changed into a dress for dinner, even though they were just eating in their quarters. Usually, she'd simply drop off her lab coat before joining them. Today, though, she had spent an hour with Ginny and Luna in her room. Had his sister persuaded her to dress up? And how? Ginny was stubborn, but Hermione had her beat in that area. Perhaps Luna and Ginny had teamed up on her…

His musings were interrupted when the door opened, and two staff members entered with dessert - followed by Dumbledore.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Would you mind me joining you for dessert?" He raised a slim folder. "I bring important news."

"Not at all, please have a seat," Harry said.

Ron nodded. Important news? That sounded intriguing, especially coming from the old man. Not to mention that telling your host that you did mind would have been rude and stupid, anyway.

"Important news?" Luna beamed at Dumbledore. Of course she would, what with getting dessert and possibly secret information at the same time.

"Indeed. MI5 has identified most of the men you killed in the line of duty," Dumbledore announced as he opened the folder and spread files out on the table while dessert was being served.

Ron ignored the slight sting he felt at hearing that MI5 had done this, not CI5. Besides, the documents looked like MI5 files, which Dumbledore couldn't have gotten legally. He skimmed them. "Quite the variety," he commented. "Americans, Russians, French, a German…"

"Oh, yes." Dumbledore smiled. "Someone took care to muddy the waters, so to speak. The police would have some difficulty pinpointing the origin of this operation." He shook his head. "However, they didn't anticipate my own resources."

Ron wondered, privately, if Dumbledore was talking about his employees - or about MI6. Out loud, he asked: "What did you find out?"

"We've identified one of the men killed in the most recent attack as Avni Berisha - the younger cousin of Burim Berisha, who controls most of the drug and other contraband routes through Kosovo." Dumbledore looked at Hermione and handed her a picture.

She shook her head, answering his unspoken question. "I've never seen or heard of that person."

"Why would a drug lord want to kidnap Hermione?" Ron asked. Of course, her beaded bag of holding would make smuggling easy - but it wasn't worth angering the United Kingdom over. The SAS might not, any more, pull off the kind of operations they did during the Troubles - if you trusted certain rumours - but murdering police officers and trying to turn London into a war zone could very well merit the kind of visit that rendered both extradition treaties and trials obsolete.

"I don't think that he is behind this," Dumbledore replied as he started on a bowl of chocolate pudding, "although I could be mistaken. However, I think it's more likely that someone used him to hire deniable assets."

"Mercenaries," Harry said. "Thugs."

"Scum," Sirius added with a sneer.

"I wouldn't argue that those particular men were upstanding representatives of their craft," Dumbledore told them with his usual smile. "But in my opinion, the key question isn't the hired help's moral fibre or lack thereof, but whether or not Berisha was aware that his cousin was deemed expendable. Blood feuds have been started for less."

"You think that he'll sell out his contact," Ron said.

The old man inclined his head. "I think that isn't too far-fetched. Alternatively - if he wasn't involved in the hiring - he might provide us with information that will lead us to Dr Granger's mysterious enemy."

"You want us to find out," Harry stated.

"Actually, since blood feuds are a local tradition in the area, I don't think the same people who actually killed his cousin should meet with Berisha," Dumbledore replied. "Although in light of the truth behind Dr Granger's work, I cannot trust my usual assets to stay loyal if given such a mission."

So he was afraid that an ex-spy might suddenly decide to inform their old employer, instead of a private businessman. And that those in his employ without any loyalty to a country might sell out to the highest bidder.

"You have proved to be quite adept at disguising yourself, though," Dumbledore went on.

"And we already know the truth about Hermione's research," Ron pointed out. "Unlike most of your employees and assets."

"Quite," Dumbledore confirmed with a thin smile. "Even the fact that we're involved in Dr Granger's affairs is being kept secret from everyone, save for a select few of my men."

The Phoenix Gruppe's spies and other 'assets' would draw their own conclusions from that information, Ron knew. And some might reevaluate their loyalties.

"So you need us to get the information so it's kept as compartmentalised as possible," Harry said. He looked at Ron. "I think we should do it."

And they would finally be able to do something about the attacks instead of waiting for the next attempt to kidnap Hermione. "Yes," Ron agreed.

Then Hermione spoke up: "I'm coming with you."

"No, you aren't!" Ron blurted out. "This is police work," he added, meeting her eyes as she glared at him.

"No, it's not," she retorted. "It's an intelligence-gathering mission. You're not going to arrest anyone, and you won't be concerned about evidence or rights."

"It's an investigation," he told her. "We're talking to informants."

"Informants who will try to kill you if they recognise you."

"An undercover mission, then," he replied.

"You're going after a drug lord in his home base. You need me." She was still glaring at him.

"It's too dangerous for you." She wasn't a police officer or a secret agent.

"The same could be said about you," she shot back.

"But I'm not the only one who can open a portal to another dimension," he pointed out. Chasing criminals and following leads, though? That was something he could do. And he really needed to do something after being attacked so often.

"So?" She raised her head, pushing her chin out, and huffed. "If it's not safe enough for me, it's not safe enough for you." She shook her head. "You need me, just in case you get shot again, or your disguise fails."

His jaw clenched. He didn't like the reminder of his close brush with death. He didn't want to remember how he had felt, falling. Bleeding. Dying.

Dumbledore finally stepped in. "Joining such a mission would also delay your research."

"A necessary sacrifice," she told the old man. "And it's not as if we'd be away for weeks. Not that my work wouldn't be affected if I had to worry about them while they're away. Given that I'll need at least several more weeks to complete my research, even if everything goes perfectly, any delay would be of minimal consequence."

"Your presence might distract Mr Weasley and Mr Potter," Dumbledore pointed out. He nodded at Ron. "Further, you and Mr Potter are professional investigators."

And Hermione wasn't. Ron nodded.

"I think we'll be safer with her nearby," Harry said.

What? Ron glared at his friend. Safer? They would have to protect her! Without her wand, she was too vulnerable, and most of her experience on such missions would be useless. Hell, they might as well ask Dumbledore for… Ah. Of course. With Hermione present, Dumbledore wouldn't double-cross them and arrange a leak or accident. And magic could literally save lives in a pinch. Not to mention the other options Hermione's potions offered. Still… Ron pressed his lips together. "In that case, we'll need help."

Hermione looked torn between anger and triumph at that. Before she could say anything, Sirius spoke up: "I'm coming with you as well, then."

"No, you aren't," Harry told him at once. "Someone has to stay with Ginny and Luna."

"We're coming as well!" Luna said.

"No." Even Hermione was shaking her head.

"If it's safe enough for you, it's safe enough for us!" Ginny insisted.

"You'll need a computer expert. Even drug lords are going digital these days!" Luna nodded several times.

Ron glanced at Harry. He expected his friend to tell Ginny not to be an idiot, but Harry wasn't saying anything. Did he really think Ginny would be safer with them than staying here?

"The more numerous we are, the more likely someone is to see through our disguises," Hermione said.

"That's nothing money can't solve," Sirius declared. "Besides, whoever you're sending as support for us will have to deal with the same issues," he told Dumbledore.

"Undoubtedly. But, leaving aside my concerns about using them, my assets are not only trained for such missions but also used to working together," Dumbledore replied.

"And we're not," Ron agreed.

"We've worked together before," Hermione told him.

"And if we aren't present we can't help you even though you might need our help," Luna said.

"I can protect the girls so you won't have to worry about them," Sirius added.

Ron saw Hermione frown - probably at getting called a 'girl'. But Sirius was correct - he could keep them safe. And Luna's skills with computers could be useful as well. Ginny, though…

"I'm not staying here by myself while everyone else goes off!" his sister declared as if she had read his thoughts.

"I'm not joining them, either," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Although I fear I'd be poor company for a young woman."

Did the old man want all of them to go on this trip? Even if it meant Hermione would take a break from her research? What was his angle? Was this just a ploy to make them trust him? A demonstration that he wouldn't take them hostage?

Ron didn't know. But he knew that Ginny wouldn't accept being left behind, no matter how much sense it made. That was Mum and Dad's fault, for making Ron and his brothers include her all the time when she was a little girl.

And he knew that Harry wouldn't be able to make her stay behind either. If Ron's friend even wanted to. Ginny might be safer with them, anyway. A medical emergency that required Hermione's 'limited resources' to save Ginny would be an easy way to split them up, after all.

Damn. Mum would kill him for this.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, July 31st, 2005**

As far as birthday parties went, this wasn't the weirdest Ron had ever attended. That slightly dubious honour still belonged to Luna's sixteenth birthday. Closely followed by her seventeenth and eighteenth.

But it was certainly not one of the best, either. The food was excellent, as expected, the cake nearly as good as one of Mum's, but the fact that tomorrow they'd be flying to the Balkans to meet a warlord threw a damper on the mood. As did the fact that, since the facility's staff had set up this picnic, the location was probably bugged.

At least Harry and Ginny had sorted things out between them - they were feeding each other the last slices of cake right now, the picture of a loving couple.

He took another swallow from his beer. He wasn't envious. Not really. He shook his head and watched Luna play with the RC helicopter. The thing was hovering above the lake, slowly descending. And Sirius was, apparently, giving her advice based upon his experiences in the army. Which, Ron knew, didn't include piloting.

"If she sinks it I'm not going to be the one to recover it," Hermione commented, taking a seat next to him.

"Oh?"

"Did I ever tell you how my Ron and I spent an hour in the depths of that lake, waiting to be rescued?"

"What?"

"It was for a school tournament."

He blinked. "A school tournament?"

"Yes. One that had been previously discontinued due to its dangers. Anyway, I was unconscious, but…" She shuddered. "I'd rather not dive down there if I can help it."

"Ah." He almost reached over to pat her shoulder. Or thigh. "I can understand that."

"Are you still angry about us coming with you?" she asked after a moment.

He sipped from his glass before answering. "No."

"Really?"

"I'm not angry."

"But you would prefer it if we stayed here."

Of course he would. They didn't have the training for this. Harry had taken Ginny to a shooting range a few times in the past, but that didn't mean she was trained for combat. And Luna and Hermione barely knew more than how to safely handle a gun. "I wish we had a range here."

"A shooting range?"

"Yes."

"For you or for us?" she asked.

He glanced at her; she was staring at the ruins above the facility. "Both. More training never hurts."

"You never had an accident during training?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"You know what I mean," he protested. But he was grinning.

She nodded. "I know. But we could spend weeks on the range and you'd still think it wouldn't be enough."

"Of course it wouldn't be enough!"

She laughed, and, after a moment, he joined her.

* * *

**Tirana International Airport, Albania, August 1st, 2005**

If Ron hadn't already been aware of how far the influence of the Phoenix Gruppe reached, their arrival in Albania would have made him realise it. They had taken a private jet - rented under a cover name, as far as he was aware - from Scotland to the capital of Albania and seen no custom checks in either location. The plane had taxied straight into a hangar, where two SUVs and two shady-looking men were waiting. No, not SUVs. Proper all-terrain vehicles. Land Rover Defenders, old - or at least old-looking.

He was first out of the plane, looking around before nodding to the men. And resisting the urge to scratch his face, which itched slightly due to his fake beard. "Good morning, gentlemen."

"Morning," one of them - the one with a moustache - replied. He was wearing a heavier jacket than was appropriate for the temperature, and it was bulging slightly. Oversized handgun or small SMG in a shoulder holster, Ron guessed. The other wore a vest that reached the top of his thighs. No bulges under the shoulders, so probably a holster in the small of his back.

Ron himself was wearing slacks and a polo shirt, with his pistol hidden in his backpack. He couldn't spot anyone else inside the hangar, so it looked safe.

"Oh, nice!" he heard Luna exclaim behind him. "Snatch Land Rovers!" Before he could say anything, she pushed past him, making a beeline for the closest vehicle. The two mercenaries looked surprised as well, and she slipped by them to crouch down in front of the car. "Nice! The upgraded ones! Although they won't help against explosives, we should be safe from small arms."

"The vehicles received additional protections, Miss," Mr Moustache told her. "They should be proof against heavier weapons as well."

"Really?" Luna frowned. "That wasn't just the usual lie to get a government contract?" She shook her head. "Well, we'll see. I hope we won't, but we've been having a sort of streak lately, you know." Without waiting for an answer that wouldn't come anyway, she crawled under the car, pulling out a small Maglite.

Ron clenched his teeth at the sight of Luna ruining her dress. He had told her that she didn't have to prove herself useful, hadn't he?

"Ah, those bring back memories! Not good memories, mind you," Sirius announced as he stepped out of the plane. "I still say we should have gone with a tourist disguise. We could have gotten luxury SUVs!"

"You just wanted a replacement car," Harry commented as he joined them. "Good morning."

"Not just _a_ replacement car but two!" Sirius retorted with a grin. "So, you're our guides?" he addressed the mercenaries.

"Yes," Moustache said. "I'm Bajram, and he's Ad."

Local names, Ron noted. "Have you been told about our mission?"

"You want to meet with Burim Berisha," Bajram replied.

"And we want to leave again," Luna added as she reappeared behind the car. Her dress was covered in dirt, as Ron had expected. "This car looks clean. I'll do the other one now," she told them, then headed over to the second Land Rover.

"Ah, finally fresh air!"

Ron glanced over his shoulder and saw that Ginny and Hermione, both wearing black wigs and colourful dresses like Luna, had left the jet. His sister was stretching - for show, Ron assumed; the jet's accommodations had been comfortable for him, and Ginny was quite a bit smaller than Ron.

Hermione refrained from such a display and looked around as she descended the short set of mobile stairs, one hand in her beaded bag of holding. Ready for trouble.

He pressed his lips together. He still didn't like bringing the rest of their group with them, but at least Hermione had some idea how to behave in dangerous areas.

"So… four in each car. We'll have to split up," Sirius said. "For the trip to the safe house," he added.

Where they'd split up further, of course. And would finally be able - outside, at least - to talk freely. Harry, Ginny and Sirius took the first car with Bajram while Ron, Luna and Hermione followed Ad to the second.

The car looked newer inside - probably the result of the uparmouring done to the chassis. Ron wondered briefly if Phoenix Gruppe had used their car parts manufacturing subsidiaries for this, then shook his head. It didn't matter. All that mattered was being able to do this mission safely, and having a pair of armoured Land Rovers went a long way towards achieving that.

Or would, if Kosovo weren't riddled with heavier weapons left over from the war against Serbia. Perhaps Sirius had been correct in wanting a tank.

* * *

**South of Prizren, Kosovo, August 1st, 2005**

They reached the safe house that Dumbledore's men had prepared in the southern mountains of Kosovo as the sun was setting. It didn't look like much from the outside - just another small stone building in the mountains. Barely above a converted stone barn, if that.

But it had an actual barn that hid the Land Rovers, and it was set up in a good defensive position, as Sirius explained as they were getting out of the cars. "Give me a tank, and I'll block the entire valley from here!" he exclaimed.

"Until someone blows you up," Harry retorted. "I'm starting to wonder about your apparent fixation on tanks."

"You're only just starting to wonder?" Hermione said, shaking her head. "It seems like an obsession."

Sirius scoffed. "I'm merely practical. A few years ago, a war was fought here. Trust me, the locals will have hidden a lot of weapons in these mountains. Right under NATO's nose. And Berisha will have had his pick of the hardware."

"Whatever tank we could get wouldn't stand up to a modern RPG anyway," Ron pointed out as he peered through a gap in the door and studied the area.

"I'm certain that our friends could get us a main battle tank," Sirius shot back.

"And a tanker to keep it fueled?" Harry snorted.

"It looks safe," Ron announced.

"It is safe," Bajram said. "We know our business."

"Trust, but verify," Ron told the other man with a nod. They certainly had known how to pass a supposedly monitored border without getting stopped, much less searched. Well, that happened when the military was ordered to do police work. "But I don't like walking to the door in the open." If there was a sniper, like the one in London...

Ad chuckled. "We're too far from any good sniping spots."

"That depends on the sniper," Ron told him. "And the gun."

The other man shrugged. "If someone tracked you to this spot, it's your fault. No one followed us."

"Let's go, then," Ron said, stepping out of the barn and heading towards the door of the house. He tensed, but no one shot him. Or at him.

Harry still kept the rest back until Bajram had opened the door, then everyone hustled over.

The building looked much nicer inside than outside - and bigger, too; Ron could see a hallway leading straight into the mountain slope on which the house had been built. Not a converted barn, but a converted bunker, perhaps. Or an observation post - it did command the valley, after all.

But whatever it had been, someone had spent quite a large sum to make it liveable by furnishing it. Nothing luxurious, but the furniture was sturdy and well-designed.

Half an hour later, they had settled into the four rooms at the back of the building and then gathered at the dining table to eat dinner - Harry had thrown together a quick meal of pasta and tomato sauce. Nothing fancy, but certainly better than an MRE.

"So, when's Berisha expecting us?" Harry asked.

"Tomorrow evening," Bajram replied. "In his home. His clan controls the entire village, so don't try anything."

"We're just here to talk to him," Ron told him. "We need some information." And if Berisha were smart, there wouldn't be any trouble.

"No one here like snitches," Bajram said.

"It's not about anyone local," Harry explained. "It shouldn't be a problem."

Ad snorted, which wasn't a good sign in Ron's opinion - the man hadn't said much at all during the hours long drive up here, but when he had, it had usually been a cynical comment or a joke even Ali G might have found a little too distasteful.

They would have to scout out the place, from afar. And be ready for anything.

* * *

Going for a walk at night felt safer. It wasn't actually safer - quite the contrary. Anyone who might have managed to find them out here would have night vision gear. But if anyone had found them, they would have attacked already, and the cool air at night made a stroll too tempting to pass up after sitting in an un-air-conditioned car for hours during the day.

Somewhat unfortunately, Hermione shared his thoughts on the matter and had opted to take a stroll herself - which meant he had been obligated to escort her. Which, in turn, made the stroll far less relaxing than it could have been. More interesting, though, since they could talk without being overheard by Dumbledore and Grindelwald's minions. Or by the rest of their group, who had chosen to stay behind. That he had to use a flashlight to see the path was a drawback, though - but it was only a few days until the new moon.

"I should come with you when you go visit Berisha," she told him.

"That's too dangerous," he retorted. And there was the fact that according to all he had heard, Berisha wasn't exactly a progressive man with regards to women. Quite the opposite, actually.

"Hospitality is held in high esteem here," she replied.

He scoffed. "Such rules are quickly discarded when it suits people." You could always find an excuse or pretext to blame the other side for breaking hospitality.

"That's quite a cynical view," she said. "Such systems wouldn't have endured if people hadn't respected them sufficiently."

He shrugged and walked a little farther along the worn path. "I wouldn't bet your life on that."

"Yet you'd bet your own?"

He turned to face her when he noticed she had stopped walking. "I don't think he'll attack us. Not when he can profit from selling us intel. And I don't doubt that he's aware who's backing us." One of the biggest arms companies in Europe.

"Ah." She cocked her head. "Do you think Dumbledore would leak news of his involvement?"

"I think his men are a little more obvious than he wants us to think," Ron replied. "At least to their family." And Ron would bet that Berisha was distantly related to either Bajram or Ad.

"Do you think Dumbledore is aware of that?"

He shrugged. Who could figure out that old spymaster?

She chuckled. "This feels familiar. His counterpart was the same. Just a little less obviously manipulative."

"He was probably better at it," Ron speculated. "He had more experience, didn't he?"

"Yes." She turned her head for a moment. "Voldemort hid in this region for over a decade, or so we believe. I wonder if that's related. Though this world's Tom Riddle is dead."

And he had just reminded her of her traumatic past. He ground his teeth in frustration. "Anyway, you can do more to help us, if things do go wrong, if you're not in the middle of it."

"I can't exactly shoot you with my potions. And my Peruvian Darkness Powder needs to be dropped nearby as well."

"You could give it to us. I'm certain that I can manage to drop it," he said with a grin.

"But you don't know what its limits are."

"It cloaks the area in magical darkness for a few minutes." That wasn't exactly rocket science. "And you can't heal us if you get shot."

"I need to be close enough for that," she pointed out.

He didn't want her there. Not even near Berisha's village. And he was pretty sure that she was aware of that. And that she didn't care for it in the slightest.

Without shining his flashlight at her, possibly blinding her, he couldn't see her face. He could barely see her limbs in the flashlight's dimmed glow - it wouldn't do to announce their presence, after all. But he knew that she would be frowning at him, chin pushed forward, in that stubborn manner of hers.

He smiled against his will. "Let's go back."

"Yes."

* * *

**East of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005**

The village had seen better days, Ron thought as they entered it. A number of houses still sported battle damage - probably from the war, but Berisha might have come under attack from some of his enemies in recent years as well. But overall, the village looked like any other village in the mountains.

Which meant most men would be armed and suspicious of strangers. Ad was driving, with Bajram riding shotgun - literally - and Ron and Harry were on the back bench. Even with his pistol and half a dozen spare magazines, Ron felt undergunned.

They stopped in front of a gate in a wall that looked like it had been built by stacking rocks upon each other without mortar, and Ad switched the engine off. "We've arrived," he said as if they didn't know.

"Remember: Don't insult him. He won't, can't, stand disrespect," Bajram told them.

"We've dealt with his type before," Harry replied. It wasn't quite true - they had dealt with gangsters, but not with what amounted to a small-time warlord with a fief of his own. But deep down, crims were crims.

Ron stepped out of the car and rolled his neck as a guard approached, a Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder, and started to talk in Albanian with Bajram.

Some magical way to speak, or at least understand, a foreign language would be very useful right now, Ron thought, but Hermione hadn't had anything like that on her. Hadn't mentioned anything that could do that, either.

After about a minute, Bajram turned towards Ron and Harry. "Berisha has agreed to see you, Mr Smith."

"I thought that had been arranged beforehand," Harry muttered next to Ron.

"Might have changed his mind," Ron replied. Or it was just a demonstration of power, as petty as it appeared. Loudly, he said: "Good."

"You'll have to surrender your weapons," Bajram went on.

"They stay in the car," Ron replied before he carefully took off his shoulder holster and dropped it on the back bench, followed by Harry. They dropped their knives as well. Not that Berisha's men couldn't steal them from the car if they wanted to, but Ron wasn't about to hand his weapons over to them.

While Ad waited next to the car, the rest of them were led through the gate, then frisked in the garden. Berisha obviously wasn't taking any chances. And he might even be prepared for suicide bombers, as unlikely as such a threat might seem. Of course, the guards didn't find anything, nor did they notice the fake beards Harry and Ron were wearing, nor the dyed hair - but their necklaces drew some amusement from them.

"What are they saying?" Harry asked.

Bajram hesitated a moment, then replied: "They are making comparisons between the necklace and your size."

Ron ran a finger over the inch-long assault rifle dangling from his necklace and chuckled, which seemed to confuse the guards.

Not for long, though. They made some more comments in Albanian, then one yelled towards the house. Ron didn't understand what he said, but he saw Bajram tense.

"They called for Berisha," their guide whispered. "But he doesn't meet with people in the yard."

Oh. Their contact deviating from standard procedure wasn't a good sign. But then the door opened, and three more guards armed with assault rifles stepped out and took up positions next to it before a man in his thirties appeared. Berisha - he hadn't changed much from the pictures taken during the war.

Unlike his guards, he wore a suit. An expensive one, too, as far as Ron could tell.

He nodded at them with a smug expression. "Mr Potter. Mr Weasley. Welcome to my humble home."

Shit.

* * *

_She hated waiting while her friends were risking their lives. Almost as much as she hated being helpless. She wasn't, of course. But she wasn't as good at Defence as her friends. Never had been. She wasn't weak - she was quite good, actually. Compared to most others. But Harry was exceptional at Defence, and Ron wasn't far behind their friend. And if this meeting turned out to be a trap, the two of them would be able to survive where she might not. And she wasn't useless - she was the reserve. She was the ace up their sleeve._

_She still hated waiting, though. And worrying. Especially with her friends out in the open while she was protected by Harry's Cloak of Invisibility. The meeting had been arranged through the Order. It should be safe. But they knew that nothing and no one was safe in this war - they had proved it themselves, several times, by unexpectedly striking at the enemy. And the Death Eaters had far fewer scruples._

_But Diggle had been an Order member in the first war - he was experienced. Dumbledore had trusted his cell to protect Harry and his relatives. If he needed to meet them, it had to be important._

_But where _was _Diggle? _

_As if he had heard her thoughts, the man appeared. And as soon as she saw him, she knew things had gone wrong. He was hurt. His robes were singed. And he looked confused._

_Harry stunned him at once, then dropped a Portkey on him. A moment later, Diggle, Harry and Ron vanished._

_Hermione, still watching from a distance, activated her own Portkey, dreading what they would learn. _

_After all, Diggle's cell had been tasked with protecting the families of various muggleborns. _


	16. Chapter 16: The Flight

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Flight**

**East of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005**

Ron's first thought, stupid as it was, was that he had worn that bloody, itchy beard for nothing. Had Dumbledore sold them out? That didn't make much sense. The old man had had ample opportunities to get rid of them, and he would know by now that Hermione wouldn't let that go. So… a leak in his organisation? But the former spymaster didn't seem like someone who'd slip up on compartmentalisation. Still, someone high enough in Phoenix Gruppe's black ops department could have done this.

"Mr Berisha." Harry nodded at the man as if he were completely unperturbed by this turn of events.

Ron copied him. "Good morning. I see our reputation precedes us." He was quite cool and collected, in his own opinion, for someone facing down five assault rifles.

Berisha laughed. "Indeed. I've been expecting you for a while." He spoke almost perfect English, Ron noted. Not the kind you pick up in a few years at a local school. "It seems you aren't quite as good at your job as I was told."

Their job? Had he expected them to track him down through his cousin? Who would have known that Harry and Ron would have followed this lead in person? Well, most members of CI5, which included Yaxley.

"You sacrificed your cousin to lure us into a trap?" Harry asked. Of course, Ron's friend had to push the man's buttons.

Berisha's smile vanished at once. "No!" he spat. "I didn't even know that Avni had taken a job that would lead him to Britain."

"Good job, Harry. Remind him that we killed his cousin," Ron whispered.

His friend ignored him. "Well, he did, and we're here. I don't suppose you'll tell us who warned you?"

Berisha laughed again. "Very funny, Mr... Potter, I suppose. I was told you were the more obnoxious one."

That clinched it - someone at CI5 had warned Berisha. Or someone for whom such a mole worked. Or someone with access to that information. On the other hand, Berisha hadn't denied knowing the name of his informant. Ron grinned. "You get used to him. Eventually. So… you also know why we're here."

"I know you're British police officers. Who're not supposed to operate outside Britain. That raises some doubts about your intentions towards me."

"Bajram can vouch for us," Harry said.

"Bajram will vouch for anyone who pays him." Berisha sneered at their guide, who glared at him in turn and muttered something in Albanian.

Ron pressed his lips together. Great - the two had a history. Or Bajram had a shady reputation. Either way, it wasn't a good thing. "We're willing to pay for the information we need. And we can pay a lot - Harry's godfather is rich." He didn't want to mention Phoenix Gruppe even though they had numbers and codes if they needed to - Dumbledore knew how to prepare undercover missions in hostile countries.

"Oh, I know. But I think you'll pay for more than just information - after all, someone's very interested in you. Someone with deep pockets. I think we'll have a bidding war." Berisha grinned. One of his men muttered something in Albanian, and he glared at him before retorting in the same language.

'Avni'? Did they just mention the name of the dead mercenary?

"The guard is another cousin," Bajram confirmed Ron's suspicion with a whisper. "He wants revenge."

Great. But Berisha was distracted, as were at least two of his guards. If they wanted to get out of this, now was the time. "Take cover," he whispered.

"What?" Bajram said.

Then Ron snapped his belt buckle, spilling the pinch of Peruvian Darkness Powder concealed within, and everything went black. Ron dived to the side, rolled over his shoulder and grabbed the miniature rifle dangling from his necklace. A sharp tug broke it off, and, a moment later, it returned to its original size in his hands.

Shots rang out as he rolled across the sandy ground and out of the area covered in darkness, his rifle already lined up with the closest guard. He squeezed the trigger and sent a three-round burst into the man, then another into the next guard. "Freeze!" he yelled, aiming at Berisha, who was moving towards the door as Harry dropped the last guard.

But the warlord didn't listen, and Ron squeezed off another burst that hit him in the leg. Before he could secure Berisha, though, one of the guards who had been behind them charged out of the darkness - who charged ahead in such a situation? - and ran over Ron, stumbling in the process. Ron rolled on to his side and managed to bring the rifle around before the man regained his balance, dropping him with three rounds to the chest.

But Berisha had used the distraction to dive into the house, out of Harry and Ron's line of fire.

"Bajram! Get the car!" Harry yelled, moving towards the door.

Ron followed - they needed Berisha. Alive.

But Bajram didn't answer. Either he had fled, or he had been shot.

Damn.

But they had to get Berisha. And quickly, before he escaped - his house was bound to have an escape route or two.

Harry was at the door, pressed against the wall. "Let's go!"

Ron hurried forward, then crouched down on the other side of the door. "Going low," he said.

Then he held his breath and slid around the corner. The room inside was empty, though a chair and a small table had been knocked over. And there were drops of blood on the floor, leading towards the back.

Harry moved ahead again, gun aimed at the hallway. Ron followed, covering the side door.

They reached the kitchen. "Blood trail," Harry whispered and pointed at the bloodstains near the trapdoor. There was also a back door, but it was locked with a deadbolt from the inside.

Ron nodded at the pantry next to it without saying anything. The trapdoor could be a decoy.

Harry nodded curtly in return and covered the door and trapdoor while Ron went around him, then ripped open the door.

He almost shot the shrieking figure inside the pantry before he realised it was a woman - probably a relative. She was screaming in Albanian but didn't seem to be armed, and there was no room for anyone else inside. He shut the door in her face. That left the trapdoor. Unless the woman had locked the back door behind Berisha, then hid… No. Too convoluted. The trapdoor, then. He moved towards it and wished they had been able to smuggle in stun grenades as well.

They heard more shots and screams from outside, and Ron hesitated. The villagers were mobilising. The others would need help…

"Stick to the plan," Harry muttered.

Clenching his teeth, Ron did and opened the trapdoor.

There was more blood on the wooden stairs leading into the cellar. "Escape tunnel," he muttered. Berisha wouldn't flee to the basement otherwise. Too easy to kill him there, even with the village coming to help.

"Yes."

Harry took point, rushing down the stairs while Ron covered him from above. There wasn't any lighting, but the flashlights mounted on the rifles provided enough illumination for them.

There were lots of old bottles and crates, and more blood on the floor, and one of the shelves lining the walls - modern ones made of metal; IKEA, Ron thought - had been toppled, revealing a tunnel.

Harry still kicked over those crates that might be hiding someone before approaching the door, staying on one side of it.

"He can't move fast with the leg wound," Ron whispered.

Harry nodded. "Ambush." He took his flashlight off the rifle and adjusted the intensity, then signed 'High'.

Ron nodded and crouched down, then moved forward to the edge of the tunnel's entrance. Behind him, Harry moved up until he was close enough to reach the door frame. "3… 2… 1… Go!"

Harry stuck the flashlight around the corner and flicked it on at maximum illumination. Ron heard a grunt as he slid around the corner himself, leading with his rifle. There was Berisha, on the ground, gun - a rifle, which had to have been grabbed during his flight - aimed at the entrance, jerking as he was suddenly blinded.

The Albanian fired wildly, but the recoil from the automatic fire made his rifle's muzzle rise, the shots not even coming close to where Ron was crouching - and aiming. It wasn't ideal, not with Berisha prone on the ground and facing him, but he wouldn't get a better opportunity. He squeezed off a shot, and Berisha screamed, hit in the shoulder.

Harry dashed into the tunnel at once and Ron flicked the safety on as he rose, following his friend. Berisha had dropped his rifle and was trying to draw his pistol, but Harry kicked it out of his hand before he could line it up, then kicked him in the head for good measure.

No one would complain about this suspect being roughed up a little.

Harry quickly searched and tied up Berisha while Ron checked the man's wounds. The shoulder wound was a little more serious than he had intended - the exit wound was in the back - but the lung hadn't been touched, and the bleeding wasn't too bad. The same went for the leg wound - the bullet had passed cleanly through his calf. Ron didn't even bother checking for broken fingers but gripped the man's good shoulder and pulled him up.

They moved back to the cellar as quickly as they could manage in the narrow tunnel while dragging their captive, then Harry went up to secure the kitchen while Ron slung Berisha over his shoulder and followed, straining under the weight of the man on the narrow, creaky stairs.

The pantry door was open, as was the back door - the woman must have fled. And was probably getting more help. Harry locked the door, then they moved back to the living room. Outside, the darkness was already fading. Ron saw Bajram on the ground, in a pool of blood. Poor bastard had caught a full salvo fired blindly into the darkness, or that's what it looked like.

But the shooting was still going on, even worse than before - all of the village's men able to carry a weapon had to be up and about by now. At least it seemed that Ad was still alive and keeping them at bay.

But escaping with Berisha would still be a challenge.

Then another sphere of darkness appeared, covering the entire gate. Ron gasped. Hermione would only do that if she saw no other choice! "Watch your fire!" he yelled to Harry. They had to keep track of their bullets anyway - they hadn't been able to shrink spare magazines. Not without using up more of the irreplaceable solution.

The fire outside the gate intensified, and, a moment later, Hermione crawled out of the black cloud, pressing herself against the wall.

Ron moved towards her, dragging Berisha with him. She didn't look hurt, but that didn't mean anything. Shock could do a lot to people. Harry rushed forward with him. Shots hit the ground near them, bullets ricocheting around.

"On the roof!" Harry shouted, then dropped to one knee and fired. Ron, still carrying Berisha, looked up in time to see a man sliding off the roof, leaving a trail of blood before he disappeared behind the wall.

Where one man went, others would, too. Ron tried to keep his eyes on the other roofs overlooking the yard as he pushed forward. Fortunately, there weren't many - Berisha must have picked his house carefully. But there were more than enough to make staying inside the yard too dangerous.

He reached the wall next to Hermione and crouched down next to her, dropping Berisha. "What happened?"

"I heard the shooting and knew you'd run out of ammunition soon. And they shot out the tires."

Ron cursed. She shouldn't have left the armoured car in which she had been hiding. She would have been safer there. Even with flat tires.

Another burst of automatic fire struck the ground inside the yard, hitting no one but sending splinters and more ricochets across the yard.

Harry returned fire. "Pass me a spare magazine!" he shouted.

Hermione plunged her hand into her beaded bag and pulled out several magazines. "Here!"

"We can't stay here!" Harry yelled. "We need to get into the car! Call Sirius and tell him to step on it! We need covering fire!"

"We can use Berisha as a hostage!" Ron replied. Although the villagers might be too caught up to care even if they noticed and didn't think he was dead already. Or wanted to use the opportunity to kill him.

"Ad?" Harry yelled as Hermione yanked out a radio and started calling Sirius.

They heard the man yell something in Albanian. Then an explosion shook the wall, and everyone dropped to the ground, taking cover, as a cloud of smoke and dust rolled over the wall.

"Grenades!" Ron yelled. They were using grenades.

"No! Too much smoke," Harry retorted, rolling and firing at another roof.

"They blew up the car!" Hermione told them. "They've got RPGs!"

As Ron had expected and feared. What a damn mess. "We need to get back to the house! They'll blow holes in the walls any moment now."

"Ad?" Harry yelled.

No answer came. Which meant the villagers would rush the gate in a moment. As soon as…

The enemy fire grew in volume, tearing up the yard.

"More on the roof behind us!" Harry yelled as he kept the roofs on the other side, those with a clear line of fire at their position, clear. "If they have grenades…"

They had to brave the fire. Any moment, the enemy would storm the yard. Ron took a deep breath. If he rushed forward and drew fire, the others would...

Suddenly, screams rose from the other side of the wall - and from the roof behind them. And yells and curses in Albanian followed.

Sirius and the others had finally managed to get the second Land Rover into position. And he was using the MG-3 they had mounted on top to great effect.

If they suppressed the village… No. "To the house!" Ron yelled, picking up Berisha again. "Run!"

Harry and Hermione followed, Hermione darting past him and into the house, Harry running backwards and firing constantly in short bursts.

Ron pushed on with clenched teeth, forcing himself to run as fast as he could, despite Berisha weighing him down. Any moment, he'd get hit and fall. Like in London. Any moment. He heard bullets whip past his head, saw them hit the ground in front of him. They wouldn't keep missing. Not for much longer.

Something hit him, and he was thrown forward, through the door, then smashed into the ground, rolling to the side, out of the line of fire of the enemy outside.

It had been Harry, he realised after a second spent feeling around on his back. Crazy bastard had tackled him inside.

"Ron!" Hermione was there, touching him, holding out a vial.

He laughed despite the situation. "I'm fine! I wasn't hit!"

She stared at him, panting. Then looked him over before nodding curtly.

Meanwhile, Harry had kicked the door closed and grabbed Hermione's radio. "Sirius? We're in the house. How does it look outside?"

"Half the village is up in arms," Ron heard Ginny's voice answer. "What did you do? Sirius says he can't keep the fire up for much longer, but we can rush the village and get you out."

"No!" Harry snapped. "They have RPGs. Keep your distance."

"But…"

"We're taking the chopper!"

"What?" Hermione blurted out. "Are they close enough?"

"Test it," Harry replied, then fired a few shots through the windows. "We don't have long - they'll be coming at us from the back any minute now."

Ron nodded and dashed to the other corner so he could cover the hallway leading to the kitchen. The back door was barred, but that wouldn't stop people from breaking into the house. Not for long. He hoped that Berisha's presence would prevent them from throwing grenades into the house. Or using RPGs on the walls.

Hermione pressed her lips together and pulled the RC helicopter out of her bag, then switched it on. "Luna, start the engine!" she yelled.

"Roger!"

Luna sounded far too perky for the middle of a firefight, in Ron's opinion. But the toy's rotor blades started to turn.

"Check. Stop again!" Hermione snapped. "Moving it to the window facing you!"

"Roger!"

That would let Luna pilot it, in theory. Now all that was left was to board it. Which meant they needed to shrink - something that felt quite a bit more daunting now than when they had made plans.

But Hermione was already kneeling next to Berisha, checking the man's bonds, before holding a vial to his lips.

The warlord wasn't cooperating, snarling and spitting at her despite his wounds. Ron moved over and held him, then pinched the man's nose closed until he opened his mouth and Hermione could pour the potion in and then force him to swallow.

He gasped for air once Ron released him, then shuddered.

And then Berisha shrunk rapidly until he was about two inches high. And, judging by his reaction, was shocked by the experience. Ron didn't mind - that made it easier to transport him. He grabbed the man and put him into the toy helicopter, securing him with some string.

"Hurry!" Harry yelled. "They're about to rush us! Sirius! Suppress them!"

"The German piece of shit overheated," his godfather announced.

Ron was about to move to the front windows to help Harry - the only reason the villagers hadn't rushed them yet was the fact that the first rank would die - but Hermione pushed a vial into his hand. "Drink!" she yelled, then turned away. "Harry! Come on!"

Ron took a deep breath and swallowed the potion. It tasted as vile as he had expected, but only for a moment - then his body shuddered, and, suddenly, the furniture started to grow. No, he was shrinking.

Moments later, the toy helicopter looked the same size as a real one to him - no, a little larger, actually. He rushed to it and climbed inside, checking on Berisha. The man was unconscious but didn't seem to be dying. And the smooth compartment they had prepared was actually rough for someone his current size. Very rough.

"Harry! Come on!" he heard Hermione yell again, as loud as an air raid siren or a plane starting up - the entire helicopter shook.

He saw the giant form of Hermione move closer to the chopper, then another giant rolled over the floor. Harry. What were they doing? Time was running out!

"Luna! Take off in fifteen seconds!" Hermione yelled, then she started to shrink, followed by Harry, and both ran towards the helicopter.

Ron was counting the seconds in his head, but both reached the toy with time to spare. He pulled Hermione inside, then Harry jumped in.

Five more seconds. Four. Three.

The door broke, wooden splinters the - relative - size of cars flying through the air, one narrowly missing the helicopter.

Two. One.

The helicopter took off just as a giant man rushed into the room, dropping prone and firing at the hallway. He noticed the chopper, but by the time he had swung his rifle round, they had already flown out of the window.

Then the helicopter started to veer back and forth, flying erratically. Ron barely managed to keep a grip on both Hermione and the support strut in the centre of the fuselage, and Berisha would have been thrown out if he hadn't been tied down.

"Luna!" Harry yelled over the engine noise - even though she couldn't hear them; the radio was back in Hermione's bag and couldn't be taken out now.

"She's flying evasively," Ron told him. Although she was flying _very _evasively.

"She's going to kill us if she keeps this up!" Harry retorted.

Hermione, meanwhile, was busy holding on to him and the strut for dear life.

He craned his neck and managed to look outside the cockpit. They had already cleared the village. He couldn't see if anyone was shooting at them, but Sirius was firing again - he could see the muzzle flash when the chopper turned in the direction of the car - and that should keep the villagers' heads down.

The helicopter landed behind the car, but the landing gear had barely touched the ground before they were picked up and carried into the Land Rover.

"I've got them!" Luna yelled - far too loud for two-inch-tall people.

"Floor it!" Sirius replied.

Then things got bumpy again. Ginny was driving.

* * *

"How long does the potion's effect last again?" Ron asked, ten minutes later. The Land Rover was still going about as fast as it could down the unpaved road. As far as Ron could tell, at least - he couldn't see out of the windows, not with the helicopter being held on Luna's lap.

"The dose I handed out won't last longer than an hour," Hermione replied. "I told you that already."

She had. But being two inches tall while surrounded by normal-sized people in a speeding car - driven by his little sister! - was unnerving. Even inside the helicopter, he didn't feel safe. One wrong move, one slip, and Luna's giant body could accidentally crush them all.

"How did the potion shrink our clothes and weapons, anyway?" he asked to distract himself. "We drank it; we didn't coat our weapons and clothes with it." Unlike the rifle-necklaces.

"That's how it works," she replied. "Like the animagus transformation encompasses your clothes and wand as well. Although Polyjuice Potion works differently."

"Ah." He nodded. Even though it didn't make sense.

"That's also the reason why we can't use the same method you used to return the rifles to their normal size," she explained. "That only works on items."

"Ah," he repeated himself. He wasn't very keen on breaking off parts of himself, anyway.

"We better get out of the helicopter now, though," Hermione went on. "If the potion's effect ends while we're still inside, the consequences won't be pretty."

Ron winced. He could imagine that. All too well. 'Bloody mess' wouldn't be adequate to describe the result of four people suddenly trying to fit inside a space smaller than a car's glove compartment.

"Even the bench won't be ideal, I think," she pointed out. "Best we let the potion's effect run out while we're outside."

"Tell that to Berisha's men," Harry said. "They won't give up the chase any time soon."

"We're outpacing them, though, aren't we?" she asked.

Ron winced again. Sirius hadn't had to fire the machine gun on the roof for some time, but the Albanians knew the terrain and wouldn't be driven off so easily. "Unless they're moving to cut us off. Or calling some allies ahead."

Hermione drew a hissing breath through clenched teeth in response to that. "How likely is that?"

"Hard to say," Ron replied. "Alliances can shift quickly among criminals."

"And people can be bought. If they offer enough money, even old feuds might be put on hold - especially if an outsider is the target," Harry added.

Hermione opened her mouth, but whatever she was about to say turned into a shriek when the entire car bounced and they were thrown around the helicopter's interior like rag dolls. Ron managed to keep his grip on the support strut, but Hermione lost hers and crashed into the wall.

She cried out in pain and Ron was at her side a moment later, despite the still rocking helicopter. "Are you hurt?"

"Just… bruises," she said, wincing.

"Ginny's driving recklessly," he replied.

"She has to," Harry cut in, "or we'll be caught."

"Caught or crashing… what's the difference?" Ron muttered. Loudly, he asked: "How's Berisha?"

"The straps held," Harry told him. "But he got banged up a little more."

Damn. "We need to leave the helicopter now," Ron said. "Get to the floor of the car." And hope that Luna didn't step on them.

"We'll need more space once the potion's effect ends," Hermione pointed out.

"That's half an hour away," Harry retorted. "We need to get out now."

"Alright." Ron moved to the door and leaned outside, waving and yelling. "Luna! Luna!"

He had to repeat himself twice before she noticed him, then had to quickly withdraw inside the helicopter when she bent down, and her long hair fell on the toy with enough force to shake it again.

"Sorry!" she boomed as she parted her hair. "I can't hear you. Climb on my hand!"

Ron flinched, but they had no choice. He climbed out and on to the giant palm outside the door. When the fingers - each of them as thick as his torso - closed around him, then lifted him up, he tensed and held his breath until he was almost pushed into Luna's ear.

"We need to get out of the helicopter! It's too dangerous inside!" he yelled.

"Oh no! I should've realised!" Her reply made his ears ring. "Ginny! Slow down! They're being thrown around in there."

One more, he was moved around, then deposited on the bench, next to Luna. The helicopter followed, and Ron almost lost his balance when Luna shifted on the bench, searching through her bag. "I've got it!" she announced, then pulled out a giant cushion.

"Good thinking, Luna!" Ron heard Hermione yell - though he doubted Luna heard her as she bent down and put the cushion on the floor.

He had to once more endure being picked up by a giant hand before he was gently put down on the cushion, quickly followed by the others.

Then he heard Luna yell: "They're safe now, Ginny! Step on it!"

Ron was thrown back when the Land Rover seemed to jump forward and spent the next fifteen minutes sliding around on the cushion. Fortunately, the cushion was so large, it also covered part of the walls. Even so, all of them picked up a few more bruises as Ron's sister put the Land Rover through its paces.

Then Sirius suddenly yelled: "Trouble ahead!" and started firing the machine gun. And their ride got really bumpy.

He heard Ginny curse as the Land Rover took a sharp turn and went off-road, then everyone cursed when the car jumped before crashing down on the ground with enough force to throw Luna out of her seat. She narrowly avoided crushing any of them, but her hand punched into the cushion, dislodging it just as Ginny took another tight turn, and Harry, Hermione, Ron and Berisha slid off the pillow and on to the floor. Right between Luna's various limbs.

And Luna was moving, so Ron had to jump to the side to avoid her hand as it grasped for purchase on the floor to push herself up.

"Luna! Watch out!" he yelled - not that she had a chance of hearing him, not with Sirius still firing the machine gun; Harry's godfather had somehow managed not to get thrown off and was still standing behind the gun. Probably - Ron couldn't see anything but Luna's shirt above him.

He looked around for the rest of them and spotted Harry in a corner, holding on to Berisha. But where was Hermione? She had been right next to him when…

The car lurched again, and he heard a booming squeal from Luna as he lost his balance and slid over the floor once more, bumping into Luna's boot. Which was moving. He jumped up, grabbing one of the laces with both hands, to escape getting squished between the heel and the car seat. Unfortunately, Luna then finally managed to regain her balance and sat up again, propping her boot against the back of the bench in front of her, and the movement jerked him around before he slammed into the boot with enough force to rattle his teeth.

He managed to keep his grip on the laces despite the pain, then let go and gripped the boot's surface when the next turn of the car ended with him on top of it. The window closest to him was a mess of spider-cracks - someone was shooting at them. And had hit them. The bulletproof glass had held, but it wouldn't last forever.

Where was Hermione? She couldn't have been accidentally crushed! But he couldn't see her.

"Hermione?" he yelled, but he could barely hear himself with all the noise.

He finally spotted her two wild turns later. She was still - or again - on the cushion, holding on to its edge. But she wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer, not with the way the entire cushion moved around every time the car swerved.

And Ron was stuck on Luna's boot, far above the floor. If he jumped - or fell - he'd break bones. Or worse. But he had to do something! The toy helicopter was on the floor as well, sliding back and forth, and it would crush Hermione if she got caught underneath it.

Then the cushion slid across the floor as well, and he held his breath. If he timed it right… He jumped off the boot and, for a horribly long second, he thought he had miscalculated, then he smashed into the cushion, right at the corner.

The impact knocked the breath out of him, but, somehow, he held on. "Hermione!"

She turned her head - had she heard him? Over the infernal racket of the gunshots and wild driving? - and he saw her gasp.

Gritting his teeth, he held on as the cushion slid back, then quickly scrambled towards her. Just before he reached her, the car hit something again, and he lost his balance, sliding the rest of the way and bumping into her.

"Ron!"

This time, he heard her. "Are you OK?" he yelled back.

"Yes!"

She didn't sound hurt. "We'll have to…"

He cut himself off when the floor beneath them shifted - tilted. Ginny was driving up a slope. A very steep slope. So steep, the cushion started to slide back, under the back bench. Into the boot.

"We need to jump!" he yelled.

But before Hermione got up the nerve to do so, they hit the back door.

Then something with a large calibre hit the back door from the other side, and it swung open.

And the cushion slid out of the car.

Ron heard Hermione scream as they fell, still clinging to the cushion. If it flipped… But it didn't. They hit the ground on top of the pillow, which cushioned the impact and saved their lives. It still hurt, of course.

And by the time Ron had recovered enough to move, the Land Rover had crested the slope and vanished from sight.

A roar made him look back - and he saw the two cars full of armed Albanians which were chasing the Land Rover race straight towards him and Hermione.

They were in the middle of the dirt road, which, at their current size, was the size of a football field. Too far to run in the time left. He pulled Hermione down and threw himself over her and hoped for the best.

The first car arrived and drove on, straight over them. The noise was deafening, but they were in the middle between the tires. Then the second car appeared, driving a little off-centre, and they were sprayed with mud and crushed plants as the car struggled on the slope.

But they hadn't been crushed flat into the mud. "We need to move!" Ron snapped as he got up. "Into cover." He helped Hermione up, ignoring her glare, then they rushed to the closest underbrush. At least at their current size, hiding would be easy. But the potion's effect wouldn't last all day. They had to find a hiding spot for two normal-sized humans. And fast.

The slope was covered in thick grass - where cars hadn't torn it up - and small trees with bushes growing between them. Neither would hide them once they were back to their normal size. "We need to reach a ravine. Or a cave."

"I didn't see either," Hermione replied as they ducked under a scraggly plant that he didn't recognise.

"We're bound to find one, as long as we keep going," he told her. But whether or not they'd be quick enough…

Judging by her expression, visible despite the mud on her face, she knew that as well as he did.

They hurried as best as they could, but, in the thick grass, what would have been a cross-country run was now more akin to a jungle expedition. The bushes and trees were actually the least of their worries. "You wouldn't happen to have a machete in your bag?" he asked, half-jokingly, when he had to push through yet another clump of dense grass.

"I do, actually, but if I pull it out it will return to its proper size," she replied, climbing over a branch the size of a log on the ground, "since it was inside the expanded space in my bag when we drank the potion, so it hasn't been shrunk."

"Crushed by a giant blade? I'll pass," he said.

They pushed on. After a particularly dense patch of grass, he checked his watch. "We've got about fifteen minutes left."

"It's not quite so precise," she told him. "Unlike Polyjuice Potion."

"We still should look for a hiding spot," he said.

"Yes."

She sounded tired, if not exhausted. And she looked the part as well, covered in drying mud. Just like Ron himself. He held out his hand to help her over a broken mushroom, but she ignored it - only to stumble and almost fall down.

A rest would be good, but with the potion's effects ending soon, they couldn't afford it. The two cars had disappeared over the ridge, chasing the others, but there would be others watching the area. If two people suddenly appeared in the middle of a slope over which their Land Rover had passed, they might take notice.

"Perhaps we should…" he froze and stared. "Bloody hell!" In front of him was a spider nest. A spider nest the size of a house. That meant there would also be a spider the size of a horse. Or worse.

He drew his pistol and wished he hadn't lost the rifle in the Land Rover.

"Dear Lord!" Hermione whispered.

He couldn't see any spiders. And he couldn't see a web either. "We need to leave. Now!" he hissed.

She didn't argue, just nodded, and they started to back off. He wet his lips as he looked around. There had to be a spider around here, didn't there? Didn't they protect their nests? He had never studied spiders - they were far too creepy.

He was panting. In this damned tall grass, a spider could be lurking right next to them, ready to ambush them… they had to retrace their steps. Unless it was hunting them.

Suddenly, he heard something. Steps. And something was moving over to the side - the grass was parting and… He fired the moment he saw the mandibles. His shots went through the chitin shell but didn't seem to affect the monster. Then one hit it in the eye, and the spider recoiled.

"Run!"

He pushed Hermione to run, then followed her, replacing his empty magazine with a fresh one. Not that it would do anything against the monster behind them. He glanced over his shoulder. Had the thing given up already?

No! There it was, crawling through the grass, catching up… "Run!" he yelled, shooting at it. Ineffectively. Damn. It would jump any moment… There!

He threw himself to the side as the monster pounced, narrowly dodging before it crashed on to the ground. He rolled, came up and emptied his magazine into the eyes facing him.

Once more, the thing recoiled - silent but for the sound of its legs striking the ground. "Run!" He chased after Hermione but… she was running up the slope. "Wrong direction!"

"Climb!" she yelled.

"What?"

"Climb!"

He climbed.

The slope was steep here. And the spider was the better climber. There it came!

"Behind me!" Hermione yelled, chest heaving as she stuck a hand into her beaded back.

His eyes widened, and he scrambled past her as she leaned forward, facing the spider. It was far too close.

She pulled her hand out, and a giant book appeared, dropping on the spider.

For a moment, they remained frozen, the only sound their heavy breathing, staring at the book below them. He blinked. Had the spider managed to evade the book? He couldn't see it. And there was no way to check underneath the book.

He felt her shiver in his arms. He didn't remember embracing her. But he held her as they slowly sat down. "That was close."

She nodded. "I forgot about animals." She turned her head to face him, smiling weakly. "Sorry. I should have expected this."

"How?" he asked.

She chuckled - once - and shook her head.

* * *

"_Did you know there's a huge nest of Acromantula in the Forbidden Forest?"_

"_It's generally called a colony, not a nest, Ron," she corrected him before she realised what he had said. "What? They aren't native to Britain!"_

"_Yes. Hagrid started it. Apparently, the leader was one of his pets." Ron shivered._

"_He told you?" Setting a creature like that free had to be illegal! They were sapient, but they were man-eaters!_

"_No. The monster told us. Aragog." Ron shook his head._

"_You met them?" She hadn't meant to yell. But… Ron - and Harry - had faced a monster like that?_

"_Yes. Hagrid said to follow the spiders. So we did. And almost got eaten."_

"_What?" What had they gotten up to while she had been petrified? A Basilisk and Acromantula?_

"_We got away, but it was a near thing." He shook his head again, staring at the wall across from her bed. "So many spiders… huge things." He rubbed his arms. "We ran when they came."_

_She shivered herself just imagining it. Poor Ron. To face giant spiders when he was afraid of normal ones… She scooted over and hugged him. "You were very brave." _

"_Brave?" He scoffed. "I couldn't even cast a spell! I just ran!"_

"_Brave," she repeated herself. In his place, she would probably have been paralysed with fear._

_He snorted but didn't contradict her._

_Good._


	17. Chapter 17: The Hunt

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Hunt**

**East of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005**

Ron's heart was still racing, and he was still breathing heavily. Still keyed up from his close brush with death at the hands - fangs - of a monster straight out of his nightmares. But it was dead now. Crushed by a giant… he blinked. "A cookbook?" He turned his head to look at her.

"It was the heaviest book I had that wasn't essential," she said.

Was she blushing? He couldn't tell; they were both flushed from running. She was covered in mud and sweat. Just like him. And still trembling and shivering. Just like him. But the monster was dead. And they were alive. Alive!

Without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her.

He blinked. He was kissing Hermione. Had been kissing her for how long? Gasping, he pulled back and released her. "Ah…" He could feel his face heat up. Why had he done that?

She was staring at him. And blushing - now he could tell. He couldn't tell what she was thinking, though.

"I'm sorry!" he blurted out.

For a moment, she glared at him, and he was certain that she'd slap him. But she merely pressed her lips together and nodded. Curtly. After taking a deep breath, she said: "We should go."

Focus on the task at hand, yes. Not on his loss of control. "We need to find a hiding spot. The potion will run out any minute, won't it?" He checked his watch - yes. Any minute.

"Yes."

He looked around. "We won't make it to the tree over there with the dense undergrowth." It was about… he couldn't estimate distances correctly like this. It looked like a few miles to him, so probably a few hundred yards, tops. Too far for them. But… "The bush there!" It would provide at least some cover, and wasn't too far. Or so he hoped. "Let's go. And we need to recover the book. It has your fingerprints on it." Burning it would only attract attention.

"That will have to wait until we're back to our normal size."

The trip was far more nerve-wracking now that they had realised just how dangerous the area was if you were only two inches tall. A spider or another animal could be hiding behind every patch of grass, in every bush. If there was a snake… he ground his teeth.

Almost at the bush, he suddenly felt as if his stomach twisted. Then his body shook. The potion! "Down!" he yelled, grabbing Hermione and pulling her to the ground. If they grew to their normal size while standing, someone could easily spot them.

She yelped in protest, but he was already rolling away from her - if the potion's effect on her wasn't also ending, he might crush her. Then, suddenly, he wasn't a tiny human anymore hiding in a field of grass the size of trees. He was a human on the ground. And so was Hermione. And the grass and bushes around them provided little, if any, cover - barely enough to hide them from view if they were prone.

They should have worn camouflage, he thought. "We'll have to crawl the rest of the way to the tree," he said. About two hundred and fifty yards, he guessed.

"Did you spot anyone observing us?"

"No. But they're bound to have a lookout up," he replied and started crawling. "Follow my route."

That would make it a little easier on her. Only a little, though - it wasn't as if the grass was hindering them much, if at all. At least they didn't have to worry about getting killed by spiders or snakes any more, he tried to console himself as he felt the sun starting to burn now that the grass didn't provide him with ample shade any more.

By the time they reached the tree and assorted bushes he had picked, he was soaked with sweat and felt exhausted. And Hermione simply collapsed next to him, chest heaving as she gulped down air. "Water…" she gasped, fingers reaching for her bag.

He waited a moment, then pried it open for her.

"Thank you." She stuck her hand inside, then pulled it out again, holding a bottle of mineral water. "Here."

He took it without protesting that she should drink first and guzzled it down, splashing half of it over his head. "Yes!" he sighed, closing his eyes. "That bag's the best thing, ever."

"Thank you. I'm quite proud of it," she replied.

He glanced at her. She was on her back, with her eyes closed. Her hair was plastered to her head, wet from sweat and water. Her clothes were covered in dirt, part of it having turned to mud.

He wanted to kiss her again. But he couldn't. Shouldn't.

Damn.

"Can you get an assault rifle out? And then the radio? We need to call the others," he said after a moment. Harry and Berisha would also have returned to their normal size by now, and they would have noticed - if they hadn't before - that Hermione and Ron were missing.

And if they were still alive, of course. But he didn't want to dwell on that.

"Yes." She turned on to her side and reached into her bag again, pulling out another assault rifle - an M16 this time - and then a radio set. One Sirius had picked; military models with encryption.

He took it from her - she still looked exhausted - and quickly set it up. Battery looked fine, the display worked, the antenna was extended… He switched to the agreed-upon frequency. "Red One calling Tank. Red One calling Tank." Sirius had picked the call signs, citing his military experience.

No answer.

He repeated himself twice. Still no answer. That didn't mean anything, of course - the others could be out of reach. In these mountains, radios didn't have the same range as on flat terrain. Especially not with a simple extendable antenna instead of a five yard one. "Satellite phone?" he asked.

Looking grim, she nodded and handed him the Iridium 9522A. He turned it on, then waited. "No connection."

"What?"

"There's no connection," he repeated.

"Are you sure you've turned it on properly?"

"Try it yourself," he replied, handing it back to her.

She pursed her lips and tried it herself. "It's not connecting. But everything seems to be working."

"We're being jammed." He shook his head. "Turn it off!" he snapped.

"What?"

"If they can jam it, they might also be able to locate it."

She gasped and turned it off. "But… that would mean, the radio…"

"We need to move. Quickly." This was worse than they had thought.

"Why would an Albanian warlord have such a capability?" she asked, stuffing the radio and phone back into her bag.

"It would come in handy if he wants to take out a competitor. Or wants to hinder NATO surveillance," Ron said. "I'm no expert. Some criminals have phone jammers, to deal with police surveillance." And the Iridium phone wasn't exactly military grade equipment.

"What if this is the work of his contact?" Hermione asked, taking another swallow from her water bottle.

"If they were present, I don't think we would have escaped the village," Ron said, studying the area around them. "We'll crawl to the dry creek there," he said, pointing ahead. "Then we can follow it up the ridge and over it. Perhaps we'll be able to contact someone from the top of the ridge." Or from the other side, if they were jamming them from this side of the ridge.

"I need to summon the book first," she said.

"How long will that take?"

"Not long," she replied. He could see her jaws clench as she turned without waiting for him to respond and held out her hand. "Accio cookbook!"

It took the book five minutes to reach them. Five minutes he spent looking for enemies descending upon them. He didn't spot anyone, though Hermione was panting and sweating even more by the time it dropped into her hand. He should comment on that, he knew. But they didn't have many alternatives - crawling there would have taken too long.

"Here's the spider," she said, holding up the book and showing him the squashed remains of the little monster.

He shuddered but nodded. "Let's go."

By the time they reached the creek, Hermione needed another break. They hid under the roots of a tree dangling in the air after half the soil beneath the tree had been washed away in a flood and had some energy bars.

While Hermione rested, pressed against the cool earth in the shade under the tree, Ron crawled up the side of the creek and peered back towards where they had fallen from the Land Rover. He still couldn't spot anyone chasing them. If Berisha's men had spotted them, wouldn't they have come at them already? They might not even be searching for them - who would have expected two miniature people to have fallen off the Land Rover? But it wasn't enough to bet their lives on it.

He slid back down to the tree's roots. "It looks clear, but we should keep moving anyway. Once you're rested," he added when he saw her start to move. She wasn't ready to climb up the ridge.

"I can go on," she insisted, raising her chin to stare at him.

"What if we get discovered and have to run?" he retorted.

She didn't say anything, but the way she pressed her lips together was answer enough.

He didn't smile at his small victory. He moved and lay down next to her instead. "It'll also be easier to move once the sun's not as high," he said.

He heard her snort at that. She knew as well as he did that they couldn't rest until the evening. They had to move and make contact with the others.

And find out what had happened to them.

* * *

After a short rest, they moved up the creek. They didn't have to crawl all the way, but it was near enough as made no difference. And the last part up to the top didn't have any cover. "This will be a little tricky," he commented as they rested in the last bush of sufficient size to hide beneath - as long as they stuck close together. Close enough to be touching. "We could be spotted from miles away. Perhaps we should pick another route…"

"What? Go back down, and then up again?" Hermione sounded as if he had proposed tunnelling through the mountain. "We're already covered in mud; we could add some more and just pass for the ground."

"It's mostly rock up there," he replied.

"By the time I'm able to crawl down without dying," she told him, "it'll be night anyway."

He hoped that was just hyperbole - she didn't look that exhausted. "Perhaps we should have crawled around the lake," he said, "as training."

That made her laugh, at least.

"Aren't there any magical potions to keep you going?" he asked.

"There's the Pepper-Up Potion. It'll deal with the common cold and lack of sleep. But if you're physically exhausted, it's not safe to use; you won't fall asleep, but that's all. You might kill yourself from exhaustion if you use it to keep going instead of sleeping." She snorted. "Of course, sometimes a chance of dying from exhaustion is still better than getting caught."

"Ah." He nodded. "We're not at that point." Not yet.

"I know." She looked around. "We haven't spotted any pursuit. Nor any patrols."

"We have to assume they have lookouts hidden in the valley," he told her. They couldn't risk being discovered. "It's the tail you don't spot that gets you caught."

"Moody."

"Yes." He frowned - he knew what she was implying: That this was paranoia. But it wasn't. Merely caution and common sense.

"At the very least, we know they weren't tracking the radio, or they would have appeared by now," she pointed out.

"Or they didn't manage to locate us before we shut the radio off," he replied. "We can't make such assumptions."

"Overestimating your enemy can be as deadly as underestimating them."

He shrugged. "Not as often, though." He shook his head. "We need to get on top of the ridge to have any chance of making contact with the radio. And check if the phone's still being jammed, too." He thought of Dumbledore sending in a plane armed with anti-radar weapons and laughed.

As did she, once he explained. "Not even the Phoenix Gruppe could send a warplane over Kosovo without NATO detecting it and taking action. But I bet he has a team ready to intervene near the area. Or two."

"But they won't know anything until told to move in, and they can't be too close, or they'll realise it was about Berisha even if they aren't given orders to intervene," he pointed out.

"You're speculating."

"Yes. But my speculation is based on what he told us. And on the fact that he let us go on this mission in the first place," he retorted.

"You mean the fact that he let me go on the mission," she corrected him.

"Yes." Ron had no doubt that Dumbledore considered everyone else in their group expendable. Without them, Hermione would have to depend entirely on the support of Phoenix Gruppe. He eyed the ridge again. "Read to move?"

"Yes." She sounded confident. She might be overestimating her stamina - but she had been running with them ever since they had arrived at the lab and he had seen what she could do.

Good enough. "Let's camouflage ourselves then!"

"I really wish I had Harry's Cloak of Invisibility."

"We'll have to make do with a cloak of camouflage," he replied with a grin.

"A mud cloak, you mean."

"Like in 'Predator', yes. Now let's get out some water bottles so we can improvise some mud."

"I'll ask Dumbledore for camouflage suits once we're back."

"Make it ghillie suits." Although even camouflage netting would be very helpful right now.

It didn't take very long to camouflage themselves - they weren't up against an alien killer with infrared vision, after all. All they needed was to break up their silhouettes. Which fresh mud, thanks to a few more water bottles, did perfectly well.

Crawling up to the top of the ridge took another thirty minutes, but mostly because they didn't want to move too quickly. Ron was first and peered down into the valley on the other side. Forested, good cover.

Then he saw the smoke at the bottom. A burning vehicle - he knew what that looked like. He clenched his teeth. "I need the binoculars."

It couldn't be the others! They couldn't be dead!

"Here!" She gasped as she spotted the burning vehicle as well. "Is… is that...?"

"No." He grabbed the binocs and focused on the burning vehicle. It was hard to tell, but… "It's not a Land Rover."

He could hear her relieved sigh next to him.

"No bodies nearby," he reported. "None that I can see, in any case." If there had been bodies - and Ron thought there would be, given that Sirius had been shooting at them - that probably meant they had been recovered. Which meant at least some of Berisha's men were still alive. Though… had they given up the chase, or had they recovered their own wounded and dead after finishing the others?

"Shall we try again to raise them on the radio?" Hermione asked.

He pondered this as he searched the valley below them for any sign of the Albanians or Harry and the others. He couldn't spot anyone, though. The satellite phone would be harder to track, or so he thought. But using it would involve contacting Dumbledore. And revealing that Ron and Hermione had been separated from the others might endanger them - Dumbledore would certainly prioritise recovering Hermione, even at the cost of the rest of their group. If he didn't immediately use them as a distraction. "Let's try the radio," Ron said.

She nodded in agreement. She was probably more concerned about the others than about herself. Especially, Ron thought, if they looked like her best friends in her world.

So they set up the radio, pulled out the antenna and flicked it on. "Red One calling Tank. Red One calling Tank."

He heard a squeal. "Ron! Where are you? We were so worried!"

He had to smile despite the breach of security - Luna never cared much about communication protocols, unless they were computer protocols. But she was alive. "How are the others?"

"Si…" She was interrupted by a shouted "Call signs, Battleaxe!" So, Sirius was alive as well. Ron could almost see Luna pout and roll her eyes as she continued: "_Tank_ was wounded, but not seriously. Pitch and Red Two are alright. Car's damaged."

He sighed with relief, closing his eyes for a moment, and felt Hermione's arms wrap around his torso and squeeze.

"They're alive!" she whispered.

"Where are you?"

"Oh, we're… hmm…" "Give me the microphone." "You're wounded, you need to rest." "Give me the microphone."

"Yes, they're fine," he told Hermione. As Mum always said: if you can argue, you don't need any help.

"Tank to Red One: We're at three-seven-double-oh and two-four-double-oh. Approximately. Your position? Over."

That meant they were three thousand seven hundred metres north and two thousand four hundred metres east of 'Point Alpha'. Which was a set of coordinates Sirius had picked, probably randomly, to the southwest of the area.

Hermione had already pulled the GPS out, and half a minute later, she told Ron their own coordinates relative to Point Alpha.

They were about ten miles apart - with a damaged car. Well, that's what you got when Ginny was driving. His sister should have become a sports racing driver instead of a tennis player. He relayed the coordinates to the others.

"Tank to Red One. Are you in a safe location? Over."

"Red One to Tank. No. Over."

"Tank to Red One. Copy, unsafe location. Find a safe location and contact us again. We'll prepare an extraction. Over."

"Red One to Tank. Copy, searching for safe hiding spot. How long will it take you? Over."

"Tank to Red One. We don't know yet. Assume at most twenty-four hours. Over."

A day? They had to hole up in this area for a day?

"Red One to Tank: We can exfiltrate on foot. Over," Ron quoted a military sci-fi novel.

"Tank to Red One: Negative. Not safe. Over."

Great. Had they pissed off the entire region? Ron wouldn't put it past Sirius to have accidentally machine-gunned some bystander's favourite car or cousin and started another blood feud. But there was nothing he could do about. "Red One to Tank. Copy, moving now. Over."

"Tank to Red One: Copy, you're moving. Out."

Not for the first time, Ron wondered if Sirius's wordplay was intentional.

"Where should we hide?" Hermione asked. "We need to keep in range of the others."

"And we also need to move from here, in case our radio transmission was detected," Ron said. He looked around. "Let's climb down and follow the ridge until we find a hiding spot." Although finding one that Berisha's men didn't know about would be difficult. Ron hoped they weren't looking in the first place.

They climbed and slid down the ridge, again taking their time so they wouldn't draw attention from a lookout, until they reached the cover of a scraggly treeline. Then they followed the treeline along the ridge until they came upon another dry creek - with the cover provided by a few nearby trees, it made a decent hiding spot.

As long as it didn't rain. That would turn the hiding spot into a death trap unless they left at once. On the other hand, the locals would be aware of that, and so might not consider it a suitable hiding spot.

Given how exhausted Hermione looked, they had to rest anyway.

"Let's hide here," he said, nodding towards a spot under a slight overhang.

She didn't argue, which told him that she was as exhausted as she looked. "For how long?" she asked as she sat down on the bare ground.

"A few hours at least," he replied, joining her after a quick look around, carefully putting the rifle down so the muzzle stayed clear of the ground. "Blanket?"

"I'll have to replace half my supplies," she said, though she was smiling as she did so - and she pulled two blankets out of her bag. Grey-coloured.

"Home sweet home," he commented as they spread one blanket on the ground, then covered themselves with the other.

"If you dragged as much mud around at home as we're doing here, I think you'd end up in the pond," she told him.

He chuckled, even though it was eerie to realise, once more, just how much she knew about his family thanks to knowing their counterparts.

"What ration would you like?" She didn't bother hiding her triumphant grin. Of course, they'd end up needing the MREs!

He sighed, which made her grin widen even more. "Chicken with Thai sauce."

"Ah! Here."

So she had remembered that they were his favourites - among the MREs in her bag. "Thank you."

She hadn't picked roast beef, though, but spaghetti with meatballs. Or something like it. She handed him a flameless ration heater as well. "Here."

That came in handy as well in their current situation. No flame, no smoke. She still looked too smug, in his opinion. But fifteen minutes later, they were eating.

* * *

"See how useful MREs are?"

He rolled his eyes at her as he handed back the plastic bag stuffed with the empty packaging for disposal. Most anything tasted good if you were hungry, after all. "This is quite different from saving time in a lab." They were whispering, of course; mustn't give away their position.

"They're good for that as well."

"That I'll contest."

"I know."

He hesitated a moment, then asked: "Because my counterpart did the same?"

She frowned at him, then shook her head. "You made your views quite clear." With a sigh, she added: "But my world's Ron was used to his mum's cooking, which was extraordinary. Even Hogwarts' cooking paled in comparison."

"Ah." The git probably complained about the cooking during the war. But as much as Ron would love to hear about his counterpart's few flaws, that wasn't a good topic of conversation. "Mum is a good cook as well," he said. "It was quite a change when I moved out. The twins and Percy regularly visit on Sundays."

"And you?"

"When I can make it. My hours are often a little irregular."

"Ah."

He smiled at the memories of those family dinners. "Charlie and Bill usually work abroad, so they're rarely home."

"That's the same in my world. Charlie works with dragons in Romania and Bill works as a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts." She was looking at the sky - or at the branches and leaves above them - not at him, and she was smiling.

"Dragons? Aren't they dangerous?"

"They are. Mrs Weasley often complains about his burns. Or did," she added with a sigh.

Uh oh. Another landmine. "My Charlie studied biology; he's currently in Africa collecting ape shit."

She snorted at his crude joke. "And Bill?"

"Investment banker in New York. The black sheep of the family."

She laughed again - softly. "Really?"

"It's a stressful job, and Mum would have liked him to work in London. And he's living it up, or so he claims. She wants him to settle down and start a family."

"Ah. My world's Bill works in Egypt, or did until the war. Tomb raiding."

"Oh." So Curse-Breaker wasn't a medical profession. "The two Weasley families sound quite similar, though. The twins are trouble makers, Charlie and Bill abroad, Percy working for the government like Dad..."

"Yes." She sounded a little guarded. Best not to push further. And no asking about her family.

"So, what about your Harry's family?"

"They're vile," she spat.

She had mentioned the Dursleys, he remembered. "Do they also try to use him to make connections? Or try to get his money?"

"No. They loathe him."

"Oh." And with her Sirius having been in jail, they would have been Harry's closest relatives… best not go there either.

"Does Sirius have cousins here?"

"Two. Andromeda, the nice one. And Narcissa, the other one," he replied. That was how Sirius described them.

"There's no third cousin?"

He pressed his lips together. "There was Bellatrix. She married Ralph Lestrange against her family's wishes. Ralph and his brother Robert had joined Riddle's terrorist cell, though that wasn't known at the time, only that they had extreme left-wing sympathies - and were quite active, too. Anti-war, anti-imperialism, the works. Apparently, they tried to steal her money to support Riddle and when she found out, she 'had an accident'. Harry's dad solved the case, shooting the Lestranges in the process and foiling the entire plot, which, presumably, made Riddle go after him and his family." And which led to Harry becoming an orphan. And having killed a man as a kid. Sirius had never said, but he must blame Bellatrix for that, at least in part, or so Ron assumed.

"Oh." She pursed her lips. "That sounds like a very different Bellatrix Lestrange to the one I knew."

"Oh?"

"She joined the Dark Lord. And she was his chief assassin. And torturer," she replied in a flat voice.

Damn, he had been an idiot again. Even though he hadn't known about Lestrange, he should have noticed how tense she was and dropped the subject, not asked for more information. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

But it was. Sort of. He sighed and stared at the sky as well. What he could see of it through the foliage, at least.

"Why didn't it work out between you and Luna?"

He blinked at the sudden question and glanced at her. She was looking at him, biting her lower lip. Nervous? Why would she be…? He took a deep breath. "It was probably my job."

"Oh?"

"Not like you think," he corrected her. "We did have some differences of opinion about working for the police, but it wasn't as if that was the single reason for breaking up. But I was working in London, and we didn't see each other as often as we used to. Then there were the hours - when Harry and I started out, we got the worst shifts. And, well, we both changed, too. We started dating when we were teenagers." And the fact that, at the time, he hadn't wanted his colleagues and superiors to know that he was dating a girl with a rather negative but very vocal opinion of the police hadn't helped at all, of course. "We drifted apart. We remained friends, though."

"That's obvious," she said. "And were there any other significant others?"

He glanced at her again; this time, she wasn't looking at him. "Nothing serious," he replied.

She nodded at that. And she was smiling.

* * *

He woke up with his arms around Hermione and his face full of muddy hair. Apparently, her ponytail had come undone. Probably at the same time she had moved into his lap. Which he hadn't noticed - he must have been more tired than he had thought. A quick check of his watch confirmed that they had slept for a few hours. His headphones had stayed on, fortunately - he hadn't missed any calls on the radio.

He knew he should wake her up. Take a look around. Check for enemies. But he didn't want to. He just wanted to remain like this a little longer. With her. Even if both of them were covered in mud and hiding in a dry creek, he didn't want this moment to end yet.

Of course, as soon as he thought that, she woke up. Or rather, she started to - she was shifting around in his lap, stretching slightly. Moaning softly.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as he struggled with the urge to kiss her again.

Ron felt the moment she woke up. She suddenly tensed, then drew a sharp breath. He was tempted to fake being asleep, see what she would do in his place, but whispered "Good morning" instead.

She tensed again. "Good afternoon, I believe."

"Or evening," he replied - the sun was about to disappear behind the mountains to the west.

She hadn't moved off his lap. He hadn't taken his arms away, either.

"What do you think the others will do?" she asked after a moment.

"They'll call Dumbledore for help." It was the only logical option. If it was too dangerous for Ron and Hermione to leave the area on foot, then it was too dangerous for the others - with a wounded Sirius - to come and fetch them. The Land Rover would draw too much attention.

"And what will he do?"

That was trickier. A helicopter would be the fastest way to recover them. But it would also be quite obvious. And if anyone in the vicinity had a MANPAD stashed somewhere… Helicopters didn't do well against missiles, even older missiles. Though the alternative - a convoy, probably armoured - would be even more noticeable. And tell everyone that someone very important was being recovered. "I don't know," he said. "I think he'll send a helicopter or an armoured personal carrier. But I don't know what forces he has available."

"And what forces he'll trust," she added.

"Yes." Ron was fairly certain that Dumbledore wouldn't baulk at eliminating people he didn't trust, should they happen to know too much. "Too bad we don't have a miniaturised plane we could use to fly away."

"Could you pilot it?" She shifted, craning her neck to look at him.

"Ah, there's the flaw in my plan," he said with a faint grin.

She snorted. "One of the flaws. Constructing a miniaturised plane that can be piloted by shrunken people would also require a lot of technological expertise. And probably a lot of trials before it could be trusted."

"Could we take an ordinary RC plane and simply shrink the remote control?" he asked.

She blinked. "That… I think it would work." She frowned. "But none of the planes and helicopters in my bag have the range to leave the area."

He nodded. They hadn't really considered endurance when they had planned their escape by RC helicopter. Range of the remote control had been too short anyway. "My fault."

"What? No. You thought of it in the first place." She shifted around to face him, frowning.

"Too late to do us any good, though," he replied. "And how much Shrinking Solution do you have left?"

"Enough for at least two such trips," she replied. "So we might be able to do that in the future."

She didn't have to say that that might be their trump card, should they have to flee from Dumbledore. "We'll need some anti-spider weapons, though," he added with a shudder.

"Yes," she agreed. "And perhaps…"

He shushed her with a gesture. The birds in the trees to their left had stopped singing.

"Something's disturbing the wildlife," he whispered as he pushed her off his lap and grabbed the rifle. She gasped and grabbed her bag, then the blankets. While she stuffed them back into her bag, Ron crawled to the left and climbed the bank of the dry creek where the grass was particularly dense on top, his rifle on his back.

He reached the top and slid into the closest bush, where he unslung his rifle. The muzzle was clear of mud and dirt, he noted with relief - he hadn't been certain he would manage it. He slowly brought it up, taking care not to disturb the branches hiding him, and inched forward until he could peer out of the bush, into the woods.

The undergrowth wasn't as dense as it would be elsewhere, but his field of vision was still limited in the rough terrain. This was the direction from which they had come. If anyone was tracking them…

"Shit!"

He jerked at hearing the sudden curse. English? Who would...

But the expletive was followed by a string of Albanian words. Probably more curses - the voice sounded angry. He heard another voice, but couldn't make out any words, and then the first man cursed some more. So two men - at least two, Ron corrected himself.

He gripped his rifle and pressed the shaft against his shoulder. He couldn't see them, but they were close. Too close. What were the odds that someone would just happen to stumble on them? Slim to none. On the other hand, anyone tracking them should know better than to alert everyone and everything to their presence by yelling. Could they be trekkers or hunters?

He pressed his lips together. He couldn't shoot civilians who didn't mean him any harm. That would be murder. He was a police officer, not some secret agent who eliminated witnesses! And if he shot anyone, the noise would alert any others anyway.

But Berisha's men would then have to search for him and Hermione. Dead hunters couldn't tell everyone where they were, and what they looked like. And they would have to find the bodies, first, before they would know to search for them.

So… but it would be murder. Killing someone just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though if Hermione got captured by Berisha's men…

Movement! Something was moving through the bushes in front of him! He held his breath and aimed his rifle at the centre of the undergrowth. The men had stopped talking. Did they suspect something?

A man appeared, moving slowly, carefully, through the foliage. He was wearing civilian clothes and carrying a hunting rifle. Not camouflage and a Kalashnikov. Damn. A hunter, probably. That didn't rule out him being one of Berisha's men. But Ron couldn't shoot him just to be on the safe side. Even if the man had his rifle ready, not slung on his back.

Ron licked his lips, tasting his own sweat as he tracked the man with his assault rifle. The Albanian was looking around. Hunting. But was he hunting Ron and Hermione, or game? He looked like a normal hunter, not a mercenary or thug.

The second man to emerge from the undergrowth behind the first didn't look like a hunter at all, though. He was in a camouflage suit - surplus Bundeswehr, Ron thought - with one leg covered in mud up to the man's hip, and he carried an assault rifle.

Although some people hunted like that. Americans, for example. Ron couldn't just gun them down from ambush. But if they were working for Berisha, then he couldn't let them find Hermione and himself, either.

He cursed silently as the hunter in the lead moved even closer to his position. Ron would be spotted at any moment. What could he do? Take them prisoner? Ron was alone, and there were two of them with their rifles at the ready. Would they even understand him if he demanded their surrender? Well, with their country covered with NATO troops, they should understand English well enough...

The hunter crouched down, checking the ground. Looking for their tracks? Or for animal tracks?

Ron clenched his teeth. He couldn't wait any longer. "Kosovo Force! Drop your weapons!" he yelled.

Instead of complying, the two men dropped to the ground. Ron fired a burst at the hunter and rolled to the side as automatic fire tore through the bush, taking cover behind a tree trunk. He heard the hunter scream - he had hit him, then, but not fatally. That left the other man.

Ron slid back a little, then rolled to the side and crawled forward. Where was the other man? The hunter was moaning but didn't call out for help. Was he already too far gone for that?

Movement! Ron swung his rifle around, firing several rounds at the foliage, then pushed himself back. Bullets tore up the earth in front of him. Where was the bastard? He changed position. To the other side of the trunk.

He couldn't see any smoke from a shot… too slow to catch it. The longer he took here, the worse their chances to escape any reinforcements would be. He had to finish this fight, quickly.

Movement! Ron aimed but didn't fire. Damn camouflage suit… there! He aimed carefully, tracking the man through the woods. A little more… He fired. The man fell. Ron hesitated a moment, then put another round into the body on the ground. No screaming, no moving. Dead.

He closed his eyes, grit his teeth, then slid down the slope to Hermione. They had to leave now!

"We need to go!" he snapped. "There were two people hunting us."

"Hunting us?" she asked as she moved towards him. She had a vial in her hand that she stashed in her bag. It didn't look like a healing potion.

"They were tracking us," he explained.

"And you tried to pose as a member of KFOR," she replied.

"Yes. It didn't work, though." And now they were dead. Or dead and dying, in one case. He suppressed the guilt he felt at leaving the hunter to die - he couldn't afford to try to save an enemy.

She nodded. "Do we go on or change course?"

If Berisha's men were smart, they would have split up and were now converging on them from multiple directions. "Let's go back over the ridge."

"We'll lose contact with the others."

"Can't be helped," he replied, already moving up the creek. That way, they'd have cover for most of the distance. "We'll return to this side in a few hours."

He heard her draw a sharp breath at that, and when he glanced over, he saw she was frowning. He didn't look forward to walking for hours, either. But it couldn't be helped.

They reached the end of the creek, below the ridge, without spotting anyone else. But to go further, they would have to expose themselves. And someone would be watching the ridge. After Ron had shot two men, that was certain.

"I don't like this," he muttered.

"It's not exactly my favourite pastime, either," Hermione replied, her tone apparently barely affected by the exertion of climbing the ridge so far.

"They're bound to be watching the ridge. If we move out of cover, we might draw fire." He looked at her.

"I can't disillusion us," she replied to his unasked question. "I could cover the area in smoke, but…" She shrugged.

That would tell their enemies exactly where they were. "We could shrink, but…" That would turn the distance to the top of the ridge from two hundred yards to four miles. Up a steep slope. And they wouldn't be able to contact the others until the potion's effect ended if they merely wanted to hide for a few hours in a mouse hole. Not to mention they would have to watch for spiders and other monsters.

"We can't stay here," he said. "The man I shot won't have been the only hunter able to track people."

"You mean we'll have to cover ourselves in mud and crawl. Again."

She didn't look happy. He grinned. "We're still covered in mud. We just need a few touch-ups."

That earned him a glare and a huff.

He wanted to kiss her. But they had to move.

Five minutes later, they were covered in mud and crawling - slowly - towards the top of the ridge. He kept glancing over his shoulder regularly; Hermione was slow, so he had to wait on her anyway.

Halfway to their goal, he spotted them. Several men were moving up the creek, about five hundred yards down. They were advancing slowly and carefully - they must have found the two dead men and feared another ambush. But even so, they would catch up before Ron and Hermione reached the top and disappeared over the ridge.

Damn. He pressed his lips together. They couldn't run. The steep slope would slow them down. Enough for a good shooter to hit them. And he couldn't take on half a dozen men. Experienced men, too - not some idiots imitating action movies. They couldn't hide, either - their improvised camouflage wouldn't hold up once the distance shrank.

"Let's hide behind the rock and call the others," he said. If that failed, they could take the shrinking solution and hide. And hope the enemy would leave after losing them. Before the potion's effect ended.

It took them a few minutes to crawl into cover, but as soon as she was behind the rock, Hermione pulled out the radio while Ron kept an eye on the approaching enemies.

"Brown to Tank. Brown to Tank. Over."

"Tank to Brown. What's your status?" That was Sirius.

"We need help. Urgently. We're about to be discovered," Ron heard her say.

"Tank to Brown. Where are you? Over."

She told them.

"Tank to Brown. We'll be there in ten minutes. Mark your position with red smoke in five. Over."

Ten minutes? That meant a helicopter. He saw that Hermione was looking at him and nodded. They could hold out for ten minutes. After a few shots, he doubted that Berisha's men would be willing to charge up the slope.

"OK," Hermione replied. "Hurry."

"Tank to Brown. Copy. Out."

Ron flashed a smile at her, to reassure her. They could do this. He could do this.

He took aim at the one in front, then squeezed the trigger. The man dropped, and Ron sent a few more shots down the slope, almost randomly. All he had to do was to keep Berisha's men scrambling for cover.

He slid down the rock to reload just as they started to return fire, then changed position, coming up behind another rock. He couldn't spot them - they were under cover. Which meant they weren't moving towards him. Good.

He changed position again while several shots from the enemy passed overhead. "Hand me some smoke grenades. Not the red ones."

"Of course not," she snapped. But she did pass him the grenades.

He threw two of them down the slope, as far as he could. That would block line of sight - and, therefore, line of fire. Somewhat, at least. If they had some tear gas, and if the wind were blowing in the right direction… But they didn't. And it wasn't.

He returned to his first spot, almost climbing over Hermione, and surveilled the area. Nothing in the smoke. But… there! He fired a few shots at a man trying to flank them. Then he rushed over to the other side - there had to be someone trying that there as well. He couldn't see them, though. Damn.

"Setting red smoke," Hermione said.

"Do it on this side," he told her. That would block them. A little.

The shots were coming closer now. He could hear the impacts against the rocks nearby. And the angles were widening - they were flanking them.

Where was the damn helicopter? Time was running out.

Through the noise from the shots, he suddenly heard another noise. The helicopter!

Berisha's men must have heard it as well, since their fire quickly tapered off.

"There!" Hermione yelled, pointing up.

Yes! A helicopter was flying alongside the ridge. A military model - with KFOR markings. Were the NATO forces getting involved? No! "They're posing as KFOR forces!" he said as the helicopter came to a stop, hovering twenty yards behind them. There was Harry, waving at them as the door opened. Next to him was a soldier with a machine gun.

Hermione dropped more smoke down the slope, then they rushed towards the helicopter.

Ron ran behind her - some idiot might still be firing blindly at the smoke or the helicopter.

But if someone was, their shots went wide. Harry pulled Hermione into the helicopter, Ron climbed inside and, a moment later, they were flying away.

They were safe.

* * *

_She was safe. Free. Her friends had come for her. Had sprung her from her cell. Unless, she thought with sudden anxiety, this is just a cruel joke. To make her think she were safe, only to crush her hope. _

_But that was Lestrange's body on the ground. And she was holding Lestrange's wand. The dark witch wouldn't go that far. And she wasn't the type to be so subtle, anyway. No - she shivered - that witch had only ever used the Torture Curse._

"_Hermione?"_

_She turned. Ron. He held out his hand. "We need to leave."_

_She blinked. Yes, they had to. Ron and Harry and the others had broken into the manor, but the Death Eaters might send reinforcements at any moment._

_She took his hand, and he led her out. Out of the dungeons. "How… How did…?" She broke off. Her throat hurt. Too much screaming. _

_He understood her anyway. "Dobby knows a secret passage."_

_Ah. Of course. She smiled. How fitting - tonight, the Malfoys were reaping what they had sowed. "B-burn."_

"_Once we're all clear," he told her._

_Harry rejoined them, with Dobby and Fred and George - had they brought their cell? - and they entered the secret passage._

_Ten minutes later, Ron and she were kissing in the forest while, behind them, Fiendfyre consumed Malfoy Manor. And the Malfoys._


	18. Chapter 18: The Kiss

Once more, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 18: The Kiss**

**East of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005**

As the helicopter tore through the sky, Ron held Hermione. Kissed her, heedless of the mud and dirt covering both of them. They were safe. She was safe. They had made it.

She was in his lap, arms round him, hands pressing against his back. He could feel her heartbeat. Feel her warmth. Feel her lips. Her tongue.

They broke the kiss, panting. And not just from that last sprint to the helicopter. He smiled at her. "We're safe," he said.

She blinked. She couldn't hear him, he realised. Not with the infernal noise of the chopper's engines drowning out every word. He had to laugh at that. It was just too silly - he hadn't even noticed the noise until now.

She laughed as well, still in his arms. They started kissing again.

And then Harry, the git, pushed headsets with ear protectors - earphones - towards them. Granted, Ron's friend was grinning from ear to ear, but still - the moment was lost. Hermione let go of him to pull on the headset, and he followed suit.

"Testing, testing," he said after adjusting the throat mike.

"Loud and clear," Harry replied.

"Yes," Hermione added, still fiddling with hers.

"Where are the others?" Ron asked.

"Back at the base," Harry replied.

Not the safehouse, then. "Base?" Were these people actually KFOR soldiers?

"Our employer set up a helicopter with ground support," his friend explained.

"I assume the NATO forces don't know about them," Hermione said.

"That's right," Harry confirmed. "Officially, it's a medevac flight for a British citizen. Which is kind of true, actually, seeing as Sirius was hurt."

"How's he doing?" Ron asked.

"He's fine. He was complaining that he wasn't allowed on the chopper, of course."

"Ah." Ron glanced around. There were two soldiers in the helicopter, both manning machine guns by the doors.

"They don't know our names," Harry answered before Ron could ask. "Hence the code names we used on the radio."

"Ah." So it hadn't just been Sirius being an officer.

"This channel is secure?" Hermione asked.

"Luna checked it."

That was good enough for Ron, even though the constant secrecy was a pain. Being able to talk freely any time he wanted to had almost been worth being shot at and hunted. "Is she OK? And Ginny?"

He saw Harry take a deep breath. That wasn't a good sign. "This was the second time they were under fire," he told them after a moment. "And this time, the danger wasn't over after a few minutes."

Damn. Ron closed his eyes. They should never have let the two girls come along. He remembered the shakes he'd had after the first time he'd been in a shooting as a police officer. Not even catching Pettigrew had prepared him for that. He felt a hand on his thigh and looked up. Hermione was smiling at him, though in a sad way. He smiled back. She would know what they were going through right now. "They'll need help," he said.

"Yes," she agreed.

"I've talked with Ginny about it, but…" Harry shrugged.

Ron nodded, sighing. His sister was too stubborn for her own good.

"So…" Harry trailed off, looking back and forth between Ron and Hermione.

Ron ignored the unspoken question. It wasn't as if he knew what exactly was between them now, anyway. They hadn't talked about it. But they would have to. Once they had some privacy.

* * *

**North of Prizren, Kosovo, August 2nd, 2005**

The flight to the 'base' was very short. Ron shook his head when he realised that, as much as it had felt as if they were in the middle of nowhere when they had been running for their lives, they hadn't actually been very far from help. "We could have walked here in a day or two," he commented.

"I think you underestimate the terrain," Hermione replied as the helicopter touched down and they saw Sirius - his arm in a sling - as well as Ginny and Luna rush towards it, behind a ground crew with a refuelling vehicle and what looked like a replacement cockpit crew. And people carrying… cleaning devices? Oh, to scrub the decals labelling the machine as a NATO vehicle. He also spotted a stretcher with a figure wrapped in bandages - including their head. That would be Berisha.

"Stay in," Harry said, unnecessarily.

"Can't we take a shower and change our clothes?" Hermione asked.

"We'd rather not be here once the NATO forces check flight plans and radar contacts," Ron's friend replied. "You'll have to use wipes." He didn't quite manage to hide his grin.

"Arse," Ron muttered, but Harry ignored that, just as he ignored Hermione's glare.

"Oh my god! What did you do, wallow in mud?"

"Hi, Sis," Ron said with a wry grin. "It's camouflage."

"You posed as pigs and fooled your pursuers. Well done!" Luna said, getting in on the teasing.

"It might have worked better than what we actually did," Hermione replied.

Ron raised his eyebrows - he wouldn't have expected her to be a good sport about being teased. Then again, she would know what Luna and Ginny were going through. He nodded, forcing himself to smile. "Yeah. Not our finest hour."

"Oh?" Sirius said, stumbling a little as he tried to climb inside with one arm in a sling and the other busy waving off the men moving to assist him. "Do tell! We could do with better in-flight entertainment."

Sirius, on the other hand, was a veteran soldier and, therefore, fair game.

**North of Tirana, Albania, August 2nd, 2005**

"...and then Hermione dropped a cookbook on the spider," Ron said.

"That must have been terrible," Ginny commented, looking concerned.

Being shot at really must have shaken her. Ron winced at his own thought - his sister wasn't the bratty kid who annoyed him whenever she could get away with it any more.

"It was terrifying," Hermione replied. "I should have thought of that possible threat when we planned this."

"We all should have," Ron quickly added. In hindsight, it was obvious.

"We weren't planning on hiking through the wilderness," Harry pointed out. "We just planned to board a helicopter and fly to the Land Rover."

"Which, I have to point out, worked as planned," Sirius told them. "Despite a few problems."

"It was my fault!" Luna said suddenly. "I should have kept you from getting lost."

"No, it wasn't your fault," Hermione told her. "None of us thought this through as much as we should have. Least of all me, and I should have known since it was my potion and my plan."

"I should have had a box with a cushion for you," Luna insisted.

"We probably would have fallen out of it anyway," Ron pointed out. "And that couldn't be helped either, not with them shooting at us," he added before Ginny could feel guilty.

"Everyone made it out alright," Sirius said. "We lived, and we'll learn from this for next time."

"Next time?" Harry asked.

"We'll have to track down whichever bastard warned Berisha," Sirius replied. "And I don't think we can leave that to others. Not when we have to assume there was a leak."

Ron glanced over at the Albanian, who was sedated and strapped to a stretcher in the back of the compartment. Bandages covered his face - he would be passing for a burn victim. If anyone looked into the flight, they might connect it to the burned-out vehicle they had left behind. It wasn't much of a cover story, but it should keep Hermione's presence a secret. So they hoped, at least - but if there was a leak in the Phoenix Gruppe…

The pilot's voice interrupted their secure communications. "We'll arrive at Tirana International Airport in a few minutes."

"He didn't tell us to fasten our seatbelts and put our seats in the upright position," Ron muttered. Hermione laughed, and he smiled at her.

"Do we have to pose as medical professionals for the transfer?" he asked.

"Not you two," Harry told him and Hermione.

"You look more like patients," Ginny added. "What with all the mud."

"Don't tell me we can't even take a shower at the airport," Hermione protested. "If we arrive like this in Scotland, then analysing the mud could tell someone where we were." She glared at everyone.

She had a point, in Ron's opinion. And not just because he really wanted to wash off the dirt, mud and sweat he had accumulated during their 'detour'. "Yes. It would look really weird if we arrived like this."

* * *

**Tirana International Airport, Albania, August 2nd, 2005**

A mobile shower in a corner of the hangar, partitioned off with a few tarps hung from lines, wasn't exactly a luxury bathroom. But the water was warm, and it felt incredibly good to get clean again. Ron sighed loudly as he ran his hands through his - finally! - clean hair.

"Ron, hurry up! We need to take off in ten minutes!" Ginny called out from the other side of the tarp.

He sighed again, annoyed now, and turned off the water.

"No rest for the wicked," he mumbled while he grabbed a towel.

"Don't forget to take your dirty clothes with you."

"Yes, Mum," he snapped back.

Her laughter was short-lived but loud, though it felt a little forced. She was definitely affected by her close brush with death. And killing. Luna would be as well, of course, but she was better at hiding her emotions.

Though all he could do right now was be a good sport about the teasing.

He dressed himself in the clean clothes on the plastic chair in the corner and slicked his hair back - no time to blow-dry it. Well, it was a warm day. And it wasn't as if he had a mane like Hermione.

He tied his shoes and pulled the tarp back to slip out. Ginny was rolling her eyes at him. "Don't you ever complain again about me taking my time in the bathroom!" she told him.

"Sure, sure." It wasn't as if they lived at home any more.

His sister narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head. "Let's go. Everyone's waiting for you. Hermione's waiting for you."

He saw her grin as she turned towards the plane and shook his head. Did she think they had sex while running for their lives? On the other hand, they had kissed in the helicopter. Harry would probably have told Ginny about it, the git. "It's not like that," he said.

"What is it like, then?" she asked, halfway to the plane.

"Complicated."

"Really?"

"Yes. And between her and me." There were lines he wouldn't let her cross, shock from being under fire or not.

She scoffed but didn't say anything else before they entered the plane, and then she went straight to her seat next to Harry - behind Sirius and Luna's row. Which left him the seat next to Hermione.

Hermione's hair was still wet and tied back in a ponytail, but he could spot where the first strands were about to escape. She had changed into a white T-shirt, black capris and trainers - like a tourist on a trip. And he could see that parts of her neck were sunburned.

She looked great.

"Hey," he said in a low voice.

"Finally dragged yourself out of the shower?" she asked with a grin.

He sighed, though he was smiling. "I see you've been listening to Ginny."

"Yes." She glanced forward. At Ginny, but also at Luna, Ron assumed.

Of course she would have realised the same thing he had - their counterparts were her best friends. And she had gone through the same, Ron was certain, when she had fought her first battle. Which, he reminded himself, had come far earlier than theirs. "I feel like a new man," he said.

"You look like a new man, too," she replied. "I almost forgot what you looked like under that 'camouflage'."

"It was necessary," he told her. "Like the disguises."

She snorted in response. "He knew who you were," she said with a nod towards the stretcher behind them, to which the still sedated Berisha was strapped. "And it won't be hard to tie me to you."

"You were in disguise as well," he pointed out. "Technically, you still are in disguise." At least her hair was dyed.

"Nothing that would fool a decent observer," she replied. "And our group? Quite distinctive. I wonder whether Dumbledore planned for this to happen."

"We can't assume everything that happens is according to one of his or Gellert's plans," Ron said. That would lead to paranoia.

She made a noncommittal noise. Not convinced, then. Ah, well - it certainly was more prudent to err on the side of caution when it came to those two old men.

A few moments passed without either of them saying anything. Then the plane started to taxi out of the hangar. A little late by his estimate.

That was the only delay, though - they went straight on to the runway and then on into the air. A few minutes later, they were almost at their travelling altitude. At least according to their pilot.

"So…" He trailed off. The middle of a plane wasn't exactly the best place to talk about whatever the two of them had. If they had anything. But the lab wouldn't be any better.

"Yes?"

What could he say? His prepared speech suddenly felt stilted and stupid. "I've been in some sticky situations with Harry, but I never wanted to kiss him," he blurted out.

She chuckled, apparently surprised by his comment. "I didn't think you would have." And now she was being evasive.

He wet his lips, then went on: "We kissed."

"Yes." She seemed guarded now. Almost wary.

"It wasn't just a reaction to the danger." He looked at her. Daring her to contradict him.

"You already said that," she replied, meeting his eyes.

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a few seconds. He wouldn't drop this. They had something - and he needed to know what it was. Needed to know what she was thinking. And feeling. Needed to know…

He jerked at the sudden exclamation.

"Oh, for the love of God! Just kiss each other, you idiots!"

Ginny definitely wasn't helping.

* * *

**Perth Airport, Scotland, Britain, August 2nd, 2005**

"I'm sorry."

"Yes." Ron rolled his eyes at Ginny's words as they gathered their luggage from the back of the plane while the others took Berisha to the waiting transport.

"I'm really sorry. But you were acting like a teenager. Both of you."

He took a deep breath and refrained from snapping at her. "We're not acting like teenagers." If they were, they probably would have snogged for the whole flight instead of sleeping. "Things are complicated."

"Are you still worried that she's pining for the other Ron? She kissed you!"

"That doesn't have to mean anything. We were under a lot of stress."

"Oh, you…" She shook her head. "I'll talk to her."

"No!" He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She whirled and glared at him, and he released her at once. "Sorry." Ginny huffed. "But, please, don't meddle. We're not teenagers any more."

"Then don't act like a stammering boy!" she retorted.

He clamped down on his temper again. "Ginny, look, we just survived an ambush and a manhunt. We need to… to decompress and rest and recover before we deal with this."

"Oh." She started to nod, then suddenly frowned. "That's aimed at me, isn't it? I'm fine."

She huffed again and picked up her bags, then left the plane.

Ron sighed. Ginny wasn't fine. He could tell. But she wouldn't listen to him. Too stubborn, too proud.

He needed to talk to Harry about this. And to the others.

He sighed as he carried the rest of their luggage out of the plane.

What a mess.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 3rd, 2005**

Filch was waiting for them in the garage when they returned to the laboratory. Ron had expected that, but it was good to have confirmation. Filch was one of Dumbledore's most trusted employees if he was not only in charge of guarding Hermione's lab but also among those who knew about Berisha.

Though if Filch was a mole, then this would be the perfect opportunity for him to silence Berisha. Not with just two men at his side, though. And Ron would bet that at least one of the men was keeping an eye on Filch for Dumbledore. The old man was an experienced spymaster, after all.

"Hello, my good man!" Sirius greeted Filch with a wide smile. "The luggage is inside; please don't drop it - parts of it are fragile."

Filch glared but didn't acknowledge the barb in any other way - was that a sign that Dumbledore was already running a mole hunt and Filch had to be on his best behaviour?

The two men moved to get Berisha's stretcher out of the second car while Filch looked on.

"I think I'll tag along," Sirius went on. "I could use some medical attention for my wounds. Did you hire a cute nurse while we were away?"

Filch slowly turned to face Sirius. "No," he said.

"What a pity."

"Sirius…" Harry sighed.

"Hey, I'm wounded - I need all the distractions I can get, due to the pain I'm in!"

"You _are_ a pain," Hermione retorted.

"Oh, shot to the heart!" Sirius put a hand on his chest.

"No, in the arm," Harry said.

Ron glanced at Ginny and Luna; they were smiling at Sirius's antics, but it seemed a little subdued. He really had to talk to Harry.

But that could wait until later - it was early morning and while he had slept in the jet and in the car on the drive here, he was still tired. A few hours in a real bed would be great.

* * *

Dumbledore arrived hours later, during their late lunch. The old man looked as dapper as always. "Ah, I'm a little early, I see. Please forgive me for disturbing your meal," he said with his usual smile.

Ron didn't believe for a second that Dumbledore hadn't been aware of the fact that they were currently eating.

"Would you like some?" Luna replied. "There's enough, and the filet mignon is delicious."

"Don't mind if I do," he said. "I only had a sandwich on the way here - I had to deal with a few enquiries from NATO about an incident in Kosovo."

"Enquiries to whom?" Harry asked. "Have they tied you to the events?"

"Oh, no, rest assured that particular secret hasn't been spilt," Dumbledore told them. "But I decided to get involved personally. Some things are best solved with a little bribery and diplomacy."

"Because you haven't found the mole who betrayed us yet," Harry said, looking at him.

"If, of course, there is a mole." Dumbledore inclined his head as one of his men set down a plate for him. "I do hope that the guest you brought with you will be able to shed some light on this situation."

"And when will that happen?" Ron asked.

"In the evening, provided our guest recovers from being sedated on schedule. His condition isn't the best."

Ah. "That was the fault of his own men," Harry was quick to point out.

"And his betrayal," Luna added. "He wouldn't have been thrown around in the car if we hadn't been forced to capture him."

Dumbledore chuckled at that. "A pragmatic view. Though next time you kidnap someone, I would suggest securing them better." He glanced at Hermione. "And, perhaps, reduce the risk to your friends."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Our plan worked perfectly. It was pure bad luck - a golden bullet, I think, is the term - that caused our unforeseen problems."

"Such things can be anticipated."

"That's why you had people in the area," Ron pointed out.

"What exactly happened?" Dumbledore asked.

"A shot hit the rear door just right so it swung open - right when we were climbing a slope. We fell out, and they couldn't stop," Ron said. "Fortunately, we fell into some bushes, so our pursuers didn't spot us as they drove past." It was the truth - from a certain point of view.

"Ah." Dumbledore finished his filet. "Should we be glad that our guest didn't fall out of the car as well?"

"More or less," Ron said, ignoring Harry's scowl. And Ginny's glare at the implied criticism of her driving. "In any case, we achieved our objective without losing anyone."

"Let's hope your luck holds. And that our guest will share his information." Dumbledore rubbed his chin. "He will be aware that, should he betray his partners, he'll become a liability. I think he will prove to be rather stubborn - and, contrary to the claims of my American colleagues, torture generally isn't very useful in such a situation. Even if it works, it usually takes quite some time to produce results, which then have to be verified through various means before they can be deemed actionable intelligence."

Hermione spoke before Ron could stop her. "There won't be any torture. I can make him talk easily."

"Oh? That is convenient, indeed."

Ron was certain that Dumbledore wasn't in the least surprised.

* * *

"Hermione." He caught her before she went to her lab. Now that he thought of it, it had been a small miracle that she hadn't gone straight there upon arriving in the morning. Or a sign of how exhausted she was.

"Yes?" She turned her head, lifting her chin slightly. She probably knew what this was about.

"About the serum…" He couldn't talk about magic in here.

"It's a truth serum. Non-reproducible with the resources available here," she replied, narrowing her eyes a little. "It's the best solution in our situation."

She was being a little too defensive, in his opinion. "Very few people can actually keep silent when being interrogated," he said. "Sooner or later, they start talking." He had experience in interrogating suspects, after all. And without using torture.

"And lying," she replied.

"It's harder to keep lies consistent than people think. Especially if statements can be verified with other sources." And Dumbledore would be aware of that.

"But Berisha will be aware that as soon as he talks, he becomes a liability to his partner or contact." She stared directly at him.

Or to Dumbledore, Ron added to himself.

"The serum is the easiest way to get information," she said. "And the most dependable."

Did she think Ron was annoyed at not getting to run the interrogation? He shook his head. "He'll want to analyse it."

"He can make an attempt, but duplicating it requires technology that we lack."

But it would still provide Dumbledore and Grindelwald with more information. As Ron had just said: It was hard to keep your lies consistent. Especially if there was more information available.

But they couldn't do anything about that any more. Not with regards to the Veritaserum, at least.

* * *

Even strapped to a metal chair, Berisha looked better than he had while being transported here. That didn't mean he looked well, of course. His gunshot wounds had been dressed, but without the bandages and wearing only underwear, his numerous bruises were clearly visible.

"He looks as if someone worked him over," Harry commented.

"We've got bruises as well," Ron replied, refraining from rubbing one of his.

"That argument never worked with Bones," his friend said.

Bones had been a little prejudiced, of course. Moody had been their mentor, but that didn't mean that they had adopted everything he had taught them. Like the 'old school' view on interrogating suspects. Not that it was currently very old school, what with the Americans calling torture 'enhanced interrogation'. And not to mention that the way this interrogation room had been set up also made it seem that this wasn't the first time Dumbledore's men had done this.

"You have the serum?" Dumbledore asked, sounding as if he were asking about the weather.

"Yes." Hermione pulled out a small pipette. "It's administered orally, so someone needs to hold his mouth open." She seemed entirely unaffected by the whole room.

Ron reminded himself that Hermione had done this before as well.

Dumbledore glanced at him and Harry. "If you would be so kind?"

Ron nodded. It wasn't as if they had a choice - apart from them, Dumbledore and Berisha, no one else was present. So he stepped up to Berisha, from an angle that wouldn't let the man spit at him.

"I won't talk," the man hissed instead. "You might as well kill me now."

Ron didn't reply. He merely grabbed Berisha's head and pulled it back, then forced his mouth open. The warlord tried to struggle, but he was tied up tightly, so nothing came of it.

Hermione stepped up, pipette in hand. A few seconds later, three drops fell into the man's mouth.

And Ron felt the man's struggles cease. He shivered a little as he let go of Berisha's head and stepped back. It wasn't a dark curse, not like the Imperius Curse Hermione had mentioned, but it was still mind-control, as far as he was concerned.

"It takes effect remarkably quickly," Dumbledore said.

"It's very effective," Hermione replied.

"How long does it last?"

"It varies, but usually about an hour," she said. "You'll notice when they start to recover - their eyes begin to focus again." She turned back to Berisha. "What's your name?"

"Burim Berisha," droned the drugged man.

"He's all yours," she said, nodding at Ron.

Perhaps she really thought he had been annoyed at not being allowed to interrogate Berisha without Dumbledore.

Ron forced the thought away. He had a criminal to interrogate. And he'd do it by the book.

"Do you know who hired your cousin Avni Berisha for the mission during which Avni was killed?"

"Yes."

Ah. Ron should have anticipated that. "Who hired Avni?"

"Anatole Sokolov."

"A Russian 'businessman' who works as a middleman for various people," Dumbledore said. "He often acts as the go-between when families are negotiating with kidnappers. He's been suspected to be a little too close to the kidnappers, but nothing has ever been proven. Presumably a former KGB member, but not a high-ranking one according to my information." Which came straight from MI6.

"Who told you that we might be visiting to ask after Avni's employer?" Ron asked.

"Anatole Sokolov."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"No."

"Do you know how he can be contacted?"

"Yes."

"How can he be contacted?"

"Call a phone number."

One that might have been abandoned as soon as Sokolov had heard about Berisha's abduction. Ah, well - Ron hadn't really expected this to be easy.

"What business did you have with Sokolov?" He continued the interrogation. Every little bit of information could be crucial, after all. Every little bit except certain details about their escape.

* * *

An hour later, the Veritaserum's effect was starting to fade. Ron watched as Berisha blinked more and more, until his slack jaw suddenly snapped up, and his eyes widened. "You… you…" A tirade of curses - or so Ron assumed - in Albanian followed.

Of course, realising that you had spilt everything about your criminal enterprise in an interrogation because of a truth drug would have such an effect on anyone.

"You really shouldn't have tried to ambush us," Harry told him.

More profanity followed. Berisha pulled on his bindings again, but they held.

"Quite enlightening," Dumbledore commented. "He recalls the interrogation?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Memory isn't affected by the serum. If someone has forgotten something, they won't recall it under the serum's influence. It's not a fool-proof method of solving a case, and it cannot be used to treat memory loss, either."

"I see."

"Dumbledore!" Berisha spat. Of course a warlord would recognise one of the two owners of the Phoenix Gruppe.

"In the flesh," the old man replied with a nod that managed to be both polite and mocking, in Ron's opinion.

"You're behind this!"

"I'm merely lending a hand to a few young people in a sticky situation, Mr Berisha." That annoying smile appeared. "I'm hardly the mastermind behind your abduction."

"We didn't want to abduct you in the first place," Hermione added. "But you just had to attempt to betray us. None of this would have happened if you had been honest."

"Honest? With the murderers of my cousin?" Berisha spat in their direction.

"He attacked us. You cannot blame us for defending ourselves!" she retorted.

Although it was obvious that Berisha could and did. "Hakmarrja."

"You're declaring a blood feud?" Hermione shook her head.

"You're familiar with the Kanun?" Dumbledore asked.

"I had a reason to research Albania," Hermione replied. "Though there are some differences, the core of the customs and traditions transcribed there are the same."

"You'll pay for this! You and your entire family!" Berisha yelled.

"I don't suppose you have a way to wipe his memories, Doctor?"

Ron felt a chilling sensation at hearing Dumbledore's casual, pleasant tone. He knew what the man was insinuating. So did Hermione, judging by her expression.

"No, I do not," she said.

"A pity." Dumbledore sighed. It almost sounded like honest regret. "He's a security risk."

Another way of saying that Berisha knew too much. Ron pressed his lips together. They were talking about murder, even if no one was mentioning it openly.

"What are you going to do?" Unless Hermione forced the issue, of course.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at her. "You've dealt with such a situation before, I think."

"The circumstances were different," she replied - and confirmed the old man's guess.

"Were they?" He tilted his head. "You've heard his confession. He has committed dozens of terrible crimes. If Britain still had the death penalty, he would have earned it many times over."

"You could imprison him. Until there are other options available," she told him.

"Other options such as...? Perhaps a way to wipe his memories?" Dumbledore had planned this, Ron was certain.

"Yes," Hermione admitted with a frown.

"Then we shall incarcerate him until such measures are available," Dumbledore said with a faint smile.

And the old man would be preparing for such measures being used against him, as well.

Fantastic. At least they had managed to keep Berisha from detailing his experience with the Shrinking Solution.

"May I have a small sample of the serum for analysis?" Dumbledore asked.

"You may," Hermione told him. "Although I don't think you'll be able to duplicate it. We had to acquire it from specialists."

"Even a partial analysis might offer us insight into new technology."

Since it was a magic potion, Ron doubted that. But he kept quiet and his face impassive. Dumbledore had, once again, managed to find out more than they had wanted to let him know. No need to make matters even worse.

"I'll have my men investigate Sokolov," Dumbledore announced after two guards had dragged the bound Berisha out - presumably to be locked up in a cell somewhere. "It might take a few days to get any results, though. My files aren't as up to date as I was used to in the SIS."

"Ah." Ron didn't quite believe Dumbledore - his files on his competition in the weapons market were probably up to date.

"Unfortunately, we still haven't found the leak of which Berisha took advantage, so further secrecy is needed, which will also cause delays," the old man went on.

"And we can't really plan anything until we know more," Harry said.

"Quite."

Ron sighed. He knew, intellectually, that he couldn't do much - not in Eastern Europe, where he didn't speak the language. And, after Berisha's ambush, it would be foolish to go off on his own. But he still wanted to do something. Anything but waiting.

"Well, I'm going for a short walk to clear my head," Hermione announced.

"Me too," Ron said at once. She needed a bodyguard, after all.

He ignored Dumbledore's smile as well as Harry's grin. But he did notice Hermione's smile.

* * *

The outside air felt nice after spending an hour in an interrogation - and possibly torture - room. He took a deep breath, then turned to Hermione. "Do you have a route in mind?"

He saw her glance towards the ruins nearby, then shake her head. "Just along the shore."

He nodded. That would make it harder to get lost.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, then cut into the woods. Just in case the shore was bugged. Night had fallen, but it wasn't too dark. Not yet.

"Do you think I should have let them kill Berisha?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

He took a deep breath. He hadn't expected that question. "No," he replied, shaking his head.

"Because it would have been murder?"

"You wouldn't have murdered him," he told her. "But Dumbledore would have tried to make you feel responsible." It was an old trick to gain leverage on people.

"He was counting on me intervening." She sighed. "But I had to do something." She turned away, looking into the dark forest around them. "We killed prisoners in the war."

"I know."

She went on as if he hadn't said anything. "But we didn't have the resources or manpower to keep them prisoners. And we couldn't risk the Dark Lord tracking them - and us with them - through their Dark Marks."

"As long as we don't know who's a traitor in Dumbledore's organisation, Berisha is a risk;" he pointed out. "He does know too much."

She turned back to face him, though it was becoming hard to make out her expression in the fading light. "At least Dumbledore might assume that we don't have anything to hide in that regard since we didn't want Berisha killed to silence him."

He tilted his head, not quite shrugging. He didn't think Dumbledore would be so easily fooled.

"We should have sedated Berisha before shrinking him," she said after a moment. Clearly, she blamed herself for that oversight.

"That might have killed him in his condition," he pointed out. "And then we wouldn't have gained any information."

"Perhaps any claims of being shrunk or carried by giants will be dismissed as hallucinations."

He didn't think so but didn't say that. It was possible, at least. "I don't think he'll believe that there's a Shrinking Solution." But folding space hangars? That wasn't too far-fetched. Not when dimensional travel and bags of holding were on the table. And Ron was certain that Dumbledore at the very least suspected Hermione's beaded bag of offering such options.

So did she, it seemed - she didn't look or sound reassured. "It's my fault. I should've been better prepared."

"It's not your fault. We suffered some bad luck, that's all." He shrugged, then pulled out a flashlight. It had become too dark to safely walk through the woods.

"I should have thought of this," she went on as if he hadn't said anything. "And I should have been prepared for Dumbledore's manipulations."

"He's got a lot more experience, and he's not the Dumbledore you knew." He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She tensed - he could feel it - then seemed to relax.

"I keep telling myself that."

She wasn't only talking about Dumbledore, he realised. "I'm not him."

"No, you aren't," she replied in an odd, hesitant voice, staring at him.

He wanted to ask if she had mixed up him and the other Ron. But what if she confirmed that? He moved a half-step forward, towards her. Close enough to embrace her easily. Close enough to kiss her.

He leaned forward, and she tilted her head back.

Their lips touched.

It wasn't like their kisses before. He wasn't reeling from an adrenaline rush. He hadn't just escaped death and felt so alive that he just had to kiss her. This was a different feeling. A very different feeling.

She pressed herself against him. He felt the warmth, the heat from her body. Heard her moan softly.

He wrapped his arms around her. Ran his hands over her back, dug his fingers into her hair.

Damn.

Ron drew a shuddering breath after breaking the kiss and pulling back. And pulling his hands out from under Hermione's sweater. "Oh."

"Oh," she echoed him.

He couldn't see her face - the flashlight was on the ground, illuminating a nearby tree, and he could barely see her at all.

"I'm…" he started, then broke off. "That was different," he said after a moment.

She didn't reply for a second. What was she thinking? Feeling. "Yes," she finally replied.

He wanted to kiss her again. Hold her again. But he couldn't see her expression. He didn't know what she was thinking. What she wanted. "Uh…"

She moved, and before he could react, she was kissing him. And her hands were gripping his head.

He heard her moan. He was moaning, too. Panting. When she pulled back and broke the kiss, he suddenly realised that they were on the ground. And that she was straddling his lap.

This time, he didn't pull his hands back.

Then things started to get hazy.

* * *

_Ron was staring at her. She knew it. And she also knew that as soon as she turned her head, he'd look away. Or find something to do in the tent._

_And, from behind him, she'd watch him, watch his body, move._

_They had done this dance often enough. It was stupid. Very stupid. Childish, too. And they weren't children any more. Not even by law. They were fighting a bloody war. They were Wizarding Britain's most wanted people and risked death every day._

_And yet, she couldn't bring herself to... talk to him. What if she was seeing things? What if she was misinterpreting his actions? What if she wasn't, but they ruined it? Whatever it was. And what would Harry think if they started something? He didn't see Ginny very often._

_She frowned. That was unfair. Harry was in a relationship. They could enter a relationship as well, couldn't they? Couldn't she?_

_If she dared. If things went wrong, all their plans could be put in jeopardy. If they had a falling out in the middle of the war…_

_She glanced at Ron._

_And he looked away._


	19. Chapter 19: The Aftermath

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 19: The Aftermath**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 3rd, 2005**

Ron stared at the night sky. The trees hid most of it, but he could see a slice of it - there were a few stars visible through the branches. His backside hurt a little - he must have ground some small rocks into it. His chest hurt a little as well - he was bound to have some scratches there. And his right side was feeling a little cold, being completely exposed.

But, damn, he didn't mind. He felt great. That had been… He sighed and closed his eyes. Not that he could see much, anyway. His flashlight must have been pushed away at some point. But he could feel Hermione's body pressed against his side, draped half across his chest, and her hair brushing over his skin whenever one of them shifted their weight a little. He could smell her, too. Just like before.

It hadn't been like in his dreams. They hadn't been in a bed, or in the shower. Or on the hood of a car. It had been rushed, not paced. And in near absolute darkness, instead of in dim light. And they had fumbled around a lot.

But, hell, it had been great. He sighed again, wishing they could just stay like this.

But they couldn't. It was getting a little chilly - this was Scotland, after all. Even in summer. And if they didn't return soon, someone would start a search for them. And Ron didn't know what would be worse - Dumbledore's men or their friends stumbling upon them while they were like this.

"Uh…" he said.

He heard her sigh. "We should return."

He nodded. "Yes." He looked around. "Ah. Did you notice where my flashlight went?"

"No," she replied. "But let me… Accio flashlight!"

Five seconds later, he saw a cone of light appear out of a bush before the flashlight dropped down next to them and he could feel and hear her taking a few deep breaths.

"That's handy," he commented, picking it up with his free hand.

"It has its uses," she replied. "But generally, wandless magic is a parlour trick - something you do to show off and impress your friends."

"Ah." He could think of at least one important use - reacquiring your wand after you lost it - but this wasn't the time to pry or discuss tactics. He moved the flashlight, illuminating the area around them. He didn't remember throwing his clothes away, but… he hadn't actually been paying attention to much of anything apart from her.

She sighed once more, then rolled off him and got up. He sat up and pointed the flashlight at the ground so she could see what she was doing without being put under a literal spotlight.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure," he replied, then winced. That was an unintended double entendre, given their situation. Stupid.

She didn't seem to mind, though. At least he thought her cursing was aimed at the state of her clothes and not at him.

"We could claim we stumbled and fell?" he asked, adding a forced laugh.

"You think being thought clumsy would be less embarrassing than randy?" she replied, and, even without seeing her face, he knew that she was raising her eyebrows in that particular way she had.

"I prefer 'passionate'," he said. "This wasn't just some urge, some itch that needed scratching," he added in a more serious tone. As serious as you could be while pulling up your pants and trousers without taking half of the forest's floor with you.

"We were - and still are - under a lot of stress," she pointed out as they both started to stand up.

He wasn't going to let her do this. "I've been dreaming about you for weeks," he told her.

"Oh."

"This isn't just some form of stress relief," Ron insisted. Not for him. And not for her. Or she wouldn't have asked about his past lovers.

"But what if I'm just trying to replace my Ron?"

He really hated hearing 'my Ron' from her. But she hadn't denied that this was more than some casual fling. "I'm not him," he said. "I'm no wizard. I was raised differently. I had a different life."

"And yet, you're so much like him."

"It's been seven years," he replied. The other Ron would have changed. Would have moved on.

"I haven't had a relationship since I arrived here."

"You were focused on going back. And you didn't want to develop ties, did you?"

He was tempted to lift the flashlight. To see her face. This wasn't a discussion that they should have in the dark.

"And yet, I did," she replied, followed by a sound that was as much a sob as it was a sigh.

"Yes," he said, reaching out to embrace her again.

She let him.

They took their time walking back to the laboratory - even with the flashlight, it was hard to walk through the woods without stumbling over roots or rocks. Claiming they had fallen down in the forest really wouldn't be too far-fetched, Ron thought. But it wouldn't fool Harry. Probably not Ginny, either.

Not that he regretted it. Quite the contrary. Some teasing and snarking won't change that. He helped Hermione over a fallen log. Had they passed it on the way? He didn't think so. But all they had to do was to head to the shore, then follow it back to the laboratory. And they couldn't miss the lake - he remembered that much of the geography, at least. He chuckled at his own thoughts, then blinked.

"If you can, let Dumbledore believe that memory modification requires a lot of resources. A large device and a great deal of computing capacity, for example," he said.

"Oh?" Hermione replied. "Good idea. If he thought that there were nanomachines travelling to the brain through someone's blood, he'd expect to get samples." She sighed. "But he'll find out the truth sooner or later - I need to do a ritual to activate the portal."

They should still be far enough away from the laboratory to be safe from being overheard. "How long does that take? The ritual, I mean."

"An hour at least," she told him. "Perhaps longer - I haven't refined it, yet, and there's a certain amount of guesswork involved."

That didn't sound too promising. "As long as you don't connect to the wrong dimension…" he said, only half-jokingly.

"Oh, that won't happen. I'll serve as the link, so to speak."

"Ah." He was both relieved and disappointed. If she couldn't find her home dimension, she'd stay with him, after all. Though Dumbledore and Grindelwald wouldn't be happy in that case. "Good," he added.

If she'd noticed his hesitation, she didn't say anything. And she didn't let go of his hand when they reached the rough path at the shore and took a short break to watch the lake.

So close to the new moon, it was almost pitch black, with just the stars reflected in the water. "It's beautiful," he whispered.

Hermione made a sound he took as agreement and leaned into him a little.

"Did you come out here to watch the lake when you were at school?"

She snorted. "There was a curfew, you know. Like in any boarding school."

"Well, there was one at my own school, but that didn't keep us from going out at night," he replied. The things he and Harry had gotten up to at school…

"When we left the dorms at night, it was usually because there was a crisis to deal with," she said.

Oh. He had stepped in it again. "Ah."

"Don't get me wrong - I loved my time here. At the school, I mean. But I never really sneaked out after curfew for fun." She snorted. "Well, I wouldn't have done that anyway - I wasn't that sort of girl."

"'That sort of girl'?" What did she mean?

"The rules-breaking and pranking kind," she explained. "Well, I broke the rules, but I always had a good reason."

"Ah." He nodded and, after a moment, added: "It was the same for us, but our teachers never agreed."

She laughed at that, and he smiled, relieved. "It _is _beautiful," she said.

He knew better than to say 'so are you' - far too corny.

But he thought it as he kissed her again.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 4th, 2005**

_He felt her weight, he felt her, on top of him. He heard her moan as he panted, hands touching her, and…_

Ron woke up, blinking as he realised that he'd had another dream. A different dream. More like… well, more real. Or was that realistic? It wasn't his imagination any more. Well, not just his imagination any more - it had been dark last night, unlike in his dream.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, remembering last night. And his dream. If he hadn't gone to his room upon returning to the lab… If their good night kiss at the door had happened in her room…

He sighed. He didn't regret anything - apart, perhaps, from not asking to spend the night with her - but did Hermione share his feelings? Was she still pining for the other Ron? After seven years? Anyone would have moved on, wouldn't they? Even wizards.

But then, Hermione hadn't had a relationship in this world. Until, or so Ron hoped, him. And the way she had focused - fixated - on returning to her home, moving on probably would have felt like betraying her goals. Like she was losing faith in her work.

Though if that was true, then did she still think that? Feel like that?

And, even more importantly: What would she do if she managed to return to her home world? Would she stay?

And what would he do?

By the time Ron was ready for breakfast, he still hadn't found any answers.

What he did find, though, was a smirking Ginny, Harry and Sirius. And a smiling Luna.

"You were out pretty late last night," Harry said.

"Don't tell me you spent half the night waiting anxiously for our return," Ron replied as he took a seat.

Harry scoffed - of course Ron's friend would have kept an eye out for him. Just like Ron would have done in his place.

"We can multitask, duh," Ginny added.

"I rigged a sensor to alert me," Luna said. "I was busy checking the net anyway - some time zones are rather impractical for keeping in contact with others around the world."

"I was merely resting so my wounds will heal," Sirius told him. "But… I don't suppose you decided to have a night march to work off some 'nervous energy', did you?"

Sirius's jokes needed work. Ron filled his cup with tea, then grabbed a slice of toast. "We had a private walk and a private talk on the shore."

He heard Hermione enter the lounge ad turned to smile at her. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Her own smile faded once she took in the others. "Oh."

"Don't worry, we're happy for you two," Ginny said. Luna nodded.

Ron rolled his eyes. As if Ginny wasn't itching to hear all the sordid details her imagination craved. Although, in this case, perhaps her imagination wasn't too far off. "We don't bug you about your relationship," he said with a glare. "So I expect you to reciprocate." He pulled out a chair for Hermione, then sat down again.

"Of course," Luna said, Ginny nodding in agreement after a noticeable pause.

"You can bug me about my relationships whenever you want!" Sirius declared with a wide grin.

"I'll remember that next time you bring a date home," Harry cut in.

Sirius waved the threat away. "I think Ginny would have words with you if you wasted a free evening bothering one of my dates."

"I think we have more important things to discuss than relationships," Hermione said before taking a sip from her cup. "Like the repercussions of the events in Albania." Ron caught Ginny's smile slipping a little as Hermione went on: "Unless I'm mistaken, for you two, this was the first time you were in a real battle, wasn't it?"

Ginny frowned but, to Ron's slight surprise, didn't bring up the brawl in which she once had been involved. "We managed."

"That's what you think. Trust me, you'd be exceptional if you could shrug off combat like that," Sirius said. "A number of my friends and acquaintances never got over their experiences in the war."

"It was frightening," Luna admitted in a small voice. "But mostly in hindsight."

"That's normal as well," Sirius told her. "Even officers sometimes can't handle their memories."

"Yes," Harry said. "That's why there are psychologists working with the police."

"You've always complained about them," Ginny pointed out.

"Well… only when they didn't leave me alone. But they can help," Harry replied.

If this weren't really important, Ron would have been amused at the exchange.

"We can't exactly talk to a therapist about what we did," Ginny said. "My agent would kill me if someone spread the story of me being involved in a shoot-out with a warlord's army. And Mum would be worse!" Ron blinked and was about to question her priorities when she added: "Not to mention that we can't have anyone hear about Hermione's secret and Dumbledore's involvement."

She was grinning, but Ron knew his sister - she wasn't quite as nonchalant as she tried to appear. He glanced at Harry, who seemed to have noticed it as well. Ginny had good reason to be wary, of course - thanks to his and Harry's position in CI5, they knew about Operation Motorman and Operation Glade. To think the tabloids would go as far as to hack the phones of celebrities… No, they couldn't trust a therapist not to betray them, even if unintentionally, and even if they didn't tell them about magic. Not with several famous people involved and after the assassinations and shoot-outs in the middle of London. "Dumbledore might have a vetted therapist." he said.

"You mean he'll have a spy who'll try to find out our secrets," Luna retorted.

"If we have to lie to the therapist, then that defeats the purpose of talking to them in the first place," Ginny said.

"Talking about it does help, though. Even if you're not entirely honest," Sirius interjected, with Hermione nodding in agreement. "If you don't want to talk to a therapist, talk to a friend."

Both Ginny and Luna turned to look at Hermione - who blinked, obviously surprised.

Ron managed not to smile at her reaction.

Sirius laughed.

* * *

"So… Hermione's going to play therapist," Harry said as they warmed up outside for their morning run.

"Well, she didn't refuse their request," Ron replied. "And she did go through the same experience," he added, a little annoyed by his friend's wording. "Only worse." Much worse.

"But will that be enough to help them?"

Ron shrugged, glancing around to check if the others had already arrived. "What's the alternative? Sirius?" And even if they found a trustworthy and discreet therapist, they wouldn't be able to visit regularly.

Now Harry looked annoyed. "You and me," he said.

"You're Ginny's boyfriend, not her therapist." And Ginny wouldn't want the two roles to mix, Ron knew. She wanted to be Harry's girlfriend and wife - not his dependent. "And Luna…" He shrugged. Luna liked Harry, but she wasn't really close to him. And Harry wasn't close enough to her to be trusted with this, yet he was too close to Ron to be trusted with this.

Harry grunted.

"Ginny'll talk to you anyway," Ron added. "Once she's feeling better about it." Less insecure, at least.

"We'll see," his friend replied. "Here they come."

And that ended the conversation.

* * *

Of course, as Ron found out in the evening, there was a significant drawback to Ginny and Luna talking to Hermione about their experiences: It meant less time spent with others. Such as Ron. And that just when they needed to talk about their relationship.

He sighed as he leaned against the wall next to her door. "The things I do for family…"

"Stop moping, Ron!" Sirius yelled from the lounge. "Come join us here!"

Well, he didn't have to stand guard outside Hermione's room. Not with the door visible from the lounge if he picked the right seat. So he went and joined them.

"It'll be like old times!" Sirius exclaimed, pushing a beer bottle towards Ron as soon as he reached the table. "Just us men!"

"That's what you usually say when you can't get a date," Harry said with a grin.

"Which almost never happens," Sirius shot back. "As an officer and gentleman, I'm popular with the fairer sex."

"You forgot 'rich'," Ron told him as he opened the bottle.

"Pff!" Sirius shook his head. "I'd say you're just jealous, but seeing how you spent the night…" He held up his own bottle. "Cheers!"

"Cheers." Ron took a sip himself. It wasn't his favourite brand, but it was decent enough. "Did you get that from the kitchen?" He would have expected Dumbledore to provide a more expensive beer for them.

"From the guards," Sirius replied. "We swapped some war stories."

"Ah." Ron nodded. That explained the brand.

"_I_ can't just stare at my girlfriend all day," Sirius went on.

"We're guarding them," Harry said with a frown.

"That's what people call it these days?" Sirius chuckled. He's probably had a few beers with said guards already, Ron thought. "Anyway," the older man went on, "a good time was had. Phoenix Gruppe has hired some quite quality folks. With a few exceptions, of course."

"Great." Harry didn't sound very impressed, even though befriending the guards could pay off in a number of ways. Provided Sirius hadn't antagonised them instead - he tended to overestimate his charm at times.

Sirius seemed to ignore Harry's reaction, though, as he downed the rest of his beer. "So, how are you two doing?"

"Fine," Harry said.

Ron shrugged.

"That doesn't sound very convincing," Sirius told them. "You know, you can talk to me. Even about more serious problems than unrequited love."

Neither Harry nor Ron took the bait. They had been fourteen and dumb at the time. Dumb enough to ask Sirius for advice about asking out girls.

"I just want to find whoever started all of this and stop them," Ron said. Permanently, preferably. And sort out his relationship with Hermione.

"Well, we'll have to wait for Dumbledore to find another lead," Sirius said, shrugging. "We can't run off without actionable intel. Well, we could run off, but it wouldn't be smart;" he added with a wide grin that vanished at once. "But, seriously, are you alright? The girls aren't here; you don't have to act tough."

"I'm fine," Harry said. "It wasn't our first battle."

"Yes," Ron agreed. If he was going to break from killing people who wanted to kill him, he'd have done so long ago.

Sirius didn't look convinced, but he didn't pry.

* * *

It was close to midnight when Ginny and Luna left Hermione's room. "Harry?" Ginny asked as she entered the lounge.

"If he hasn't fallen asleep, he's waiting for you in your room," Ron told her, getting up.

"He better not have!" Ginny said.

"I'm going to chat with a few friends," Luna said. "They should be back from work or getting up now."

"Goodnight." Ron nodded at them on the way to Hermione's room. He knocked, then waited.

"Come in."

She was wearing her usual sleepwear - tank top and shorts - and was sitting on her bed with her legs crossed.

He closed the door behind him and went to sit down on the bed, which caused her to smile - though a little wryly. "How did the talk go?" he asked.

"As well as could be realistically expected, in my opinion." She rolled her neck. "We talked about our experiences."

Mostly hers, or so Ron assumed. He nodded.

"It's helping, I think. I hope so at least, but I'm no therapist," Hermione said with a shrug. "I think it hasn't hit them yet. Not fully, at least. It took some time with me as well, after my first battle."

"Was that the attack in the bathroom?" He couldn't talk about trolls here.

She nodded slowly. "Yes. I had nightmares for weeks."

"It was the same for me, the first time I shot a man," he said. "And Harry…"

"He had it worse." She sighed.

"Yes." Ron hadn't realised that for some time even after they had become friends. He'd been a dumb kid.

"What did you do while we talked?"

"Had a few beers with Sirius and Harry," he replied. "Mostly talked about sports and stuff." Until Sirius had retired to his room, quite drunk.

"Ah."

A few seconds passed without either of them saying anything. "So…" Ron shifted his weight a little. "About us..."

The way she winced wasn't a good sign, was it?

"I don't think this is just some casual thing. Or just a reaction to danger," he went on. They hadn't fallen in bed with each other after the other attacks, after all.

"No, it isn't," she agreed. "But it's a complicated issue."

"Because of my counterpart."

She frowned at that. "It's not his fault."

"I didn't mean it like that," he defended himself.

She pressed her lips together for a moment. "The fact that I'm in another world is at the core of this… issue."

"And what is the issue?" he asked, leaning forward a little. "I'm not my counterpart. I'm a different man." He wasn't a wizard. He wasn't a teenager. He hadn't grown up with her.

"Yes, you aren't him." She shook her head. "But you're very similar to him."

At least she wasn't calling his counterpart 'my Ron'. "I don't think appearances matter that much."

She scoffed at that. "Appearances do matter, no matter how much we want to deny it." She frowned, probably at her own wording. "Subconsciously, at the very least. But it goes deeper than that. Aren't you concerned that I see you as a replacement for my Ron?"

He was more concerned that she'd leave him for his counterpart. "I don't think you'd do that."

He could see her bite her lower lip. "Why not? I didn't break up with Ron, yet I did…" she trailed off.

"It's been seven years," he told her. "Do you think he's still waiting for you?" He wasn't going to ask if she thought that Ron's counterpart was still alive. That would be going too far.

She flinched. "He might."

"You don't think so, though."

"The circumstances of my dimensional travel wouldn't have left him with much hope," she said after a few seconds. "But it's not the same for me. I don't have that excuse."

Was she serious? "I don't think anyone would expect you to carry a torch for anyone for seven years. Certainly not in these circumstances," he retorted. "Hell, most relationships don't last that long."

"I'm aware of that," she snapped.

"You expect him to have moved on. And yet, you expect yourself to stay faithful?" He couldn't keep a trace of bitterness out of his voice.

"I know it's stupid," she replied through clenched teeth. "But I can't help it."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself." He couldn't let her stew about this.

She leaned back, wrapping her arms around herself. He reached out and touched her knee. She didn't flinch at his touch, but she tensed.

"Are you concerned about betraying him, or are you afraid that what we have is not real? That it'll fall apart if you see him again?" The expression on her face when she looked at him told him the answer. "I'm willing to take that risk," he said. It wasn't as if he had a choice, anyway - he couldn't give her up.

She sniffled. It wasn't quite a sob. He gathered her in his arms before she started to cry in earnest.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 5th, 2005**

Ron woke up with Hermione in his arms and her hair in his face. He gingerly moved his free arm - the other felt like pins and needles since it was trapped beneath her body - and brushed her mane away until he could check the alarm clock on the sideboard. Five minutes left.

He sighed and smiled. They hadn't settled their issues, but they were together. More or less officially. Until Hermione managed to open a gate to her home world, at least, and they found out what had happened to her friends.

He wasn't looking forward to that moment, for a number of reasons. A small, selfish and stupid part of him wouldn't even mind if Hermione never managed to get back to her world. It would mean she would have to stay with him.

It would also mean that Dumbledore and Grindelwald would demand that she stopped wasting time and money, and started to teach them her 'technology'. Which she wouldn't be able to do. And that would cause all sorts of trouble.

He knew that very well, but sometimes, he thought he'd prefer that. If Hermione returned to her dimension and decided to stay there, with her friends, with _him_…

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to imagine that. His counterpart would've moved on. Would have found someone else. Or died fighting the Dark Lord.

That's what Ron would have done. Probably. And he refused to think that his counterpart would be the better man.

His gloomy thoughts were interrupted when he felt her stir, then heard her moan in that cute, confused manner of hers as she shifted around with her head on his chest until she stiffened, realising that she was using him as a pillow.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Good morning," she replied.

Then the alarm clock started ringing, and they had to get up.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 7th, 2005**

"Ah! The backup mainframe! Finally! I've been waiting for that for ages! Put it down in the other corner, next to the power lines! No, further back!"

Ron shook his head as Hermione ordered Dumbledore's men around in her lab. She went from beaming at them to scowling within seconds. And probably didn't notice the frowns sent her way in return as soon as she turned her back. Or if she did, she didn't care - she was very, very focused on her work.

Not that it mattered much; Ron was certain that anyone working on this project was aware of how important it was for Dumbledore and Grindelwald, if not the exact reasons. And how stupid it would be to do anything to hinder Hermione's research. He doubted that Grindelwald would hesitate to disappear any 'saboteur'. Dumbledore would probably prefer to arrange an accident - perhaps even a non-fatal one.

He still kept an eye on the men, of course. Just because something was stupid didn't mean it wouldn't be done. If there was one thing you learned quickly as a police officer, it was that people were stupid.

But he didn't spot any attempts at sabotage, and Hermione would be checking everything anyway.

Once they were gone and Hermione started installing her programs on the new mainframe, he relaxed. A little.

Half an hour later, he saw Hermione push back from her desk and reach for the mini fridge mounted next to it. "Break time?" he asked.

She froze for a moment, then looked at him. "A short break."

He walked over as she grabbed a can for him as well. "So, how's your research going?"

"Oh, it's going well. With the new computing resources, I should be able to cut down the time spent waiting on simulations by a significant amount!" With a frown, she added: "And they almost dropped it within the magnetic fields created by the cage when it's under power."

"Would that have damaged it?" He took the can from her and opened it.

"Probably destroyed it," she replied, opening her own can with a scowl. "And anyone handling computers should be aware of that danger!"

"I don't think they're aware of your experiments," he pointed out, leaning against her desk.

"Do they think the thick power cables are for show?" She shook her head, scoffing. "And what about the markings on the floor?"

"Probably not impressive enough," he replied. "You might want to add skulls."

"Then they wouldn't…" she frowned as she trailed off. "Very funny."

He chuckled and drank the rest of his drink.

She huffed and took another sip from her own. But he caught her smiling, a little. "Did you hear anything from Dumbledore?" she a moment.

He shook his head. "Nothing yet."

"I would have expected results by now," she said. "Since we have a name, and contact numbers."

"A man in that business won't be stupid. Or easily arrested," he pointed out. Not that he expected to arrest the man.

"Well, I hope he gets results soon," she said, putting down her can.

"I'd wager that so does he," Ron replied.

But Hermione was already back at the keyboard - not quite lost to the world, but close.

And Ron went back to standing guard.

* * *

"Raise you ten."

Ron threw his cards down in response to Sirius's bid. "Fold."

"Harry?"

"Call."

"Three aces! Who's lucky tonight?"

Harry's cards hit the table as well. "Guess who's not getting lucky tonight."

"That's a low blow!"

"Lucky at cards, unlucky in love," Ron said.

"Luck? That was pure skill!" Sirius replied.

"Chess is skill. Poker is luck," Ron told him.

"Says the man depending on luck!"

"Well, that's enough gambling for me," Harry interrupted them.

"What? You're bailing just when I've got a good run?" Sirius protested.

"Yes," Harry said.

"I taught you better! Gentlemen don't leave a card table before giving the others a chance to win their money back!"

"We were playing with your money," Harry pointed out.

"And I told you that if you win, you can keep the money!"

"Which is exactly what I'm doing," Harry said.

Sirius didn't have an answer to that. Well, not before Harry had left the lounge.

Ron shrugged with a grin. "Tomorrow's another day."

Sirius sighed. "I guess so. With the girls spending the evenings talking, there's not much we can do."

"Especially since someone broke the controllers for the console, and we haven't yet gotten replacements," Ron pointed out.

"It's a plot by Dumbledore," Sirius retorted - without looking at him.

"I'm sure."

"Good." Sirius nodded. "More DVDs wouldn't go amiss, either."

"We'll have to wait for the next trip," Ron said.

"Well, I don't see why we can't go right away," Sirius replied. "It's not as if we can't disguise ourselves."

Ron was about to point out that they still hadn't found the leak when he saw that Hermione's door was opening. "I think I'm going to bed," he said, without taking his eyes off the door, and stood up.

Sirius laughed behind him, but Ron ignored it, just like he ignored Luna's smile and Ginny's remarks, as he walked down the hallway and entered Hermione's room.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 9th, 2005**

"Alright, let's see some kicks! No, not like that! Watch!" Ginny yelled, then demonstrated a kick that hit a training dummy - if the padded pillar deserved that name - roughly at the height of her head. If that had been someone's head, teeth would have been smashed out of their mouth, Ron thought. "See? You need to turn so you can raise your leg sideways."

"Like a roundhouse kick?" Hermione asked.

"No. Not exactly. Try it!"

Hermione tried, but her kick wouldn't have smashed teeth, in Ron's opinion. Probably wouldn't have done much of anything.

"No, no! You need to kick harder! Watch!" Another demonstration followed. "See? Try again!"

While Hermione tried again - improving a little, as far as Ron could tell - Ginny went to correct Luna's stance. "No, no! You need to lower your centre of balance! This is fighting, not dancing!"

"If you'd teach us Capoeira, it could be both!" Luna retorted.

"I'm teaching you effective martial arts moves. Not flashy ones! Now try again!"

"If she ever quits tennis, she's got a career as a military instructor ahead of her," Sirius mumbled next to Ron.

"I'm reconsidering the decision to let Ginny give us some martial arts lessons," Ron replied in a whisper.

"It's mostly to keep her busy, I think," Sirius told him. "So she won't go stir-crazy."

"Instead, she can drive us crazy," Ron said.

"She's not bothering us, is she?" Sirius grinned and nodded towards Hermione, who was currently sitting on the floor after having lost her balance in her latest attempt. "Of course, seeing Hermione suffer makes you want to step in, doesn't it?"

It did, but Ron knew better than to attempt it. Especially with Ginny involved. "It's for her own good," he said instead.

"She won't be able to defend herself against a competent enemy," Harry told them, joining them with a towel around his neck.

"Your standards are a little unreasonable," Sirius pointed out. "You consider Ginny barely competent," he added.

Harry scoffed in return. "I'd prefer it if we could teach them how to shoot. Practical shooting," he clarified. "Not just the theory of it."

"We'd need a shooting range for that. And a specialised training ground," Ron pointed out, not for the first time. And the laboratory lacked both. They could, in theory, shoot anywhere in the area, but that might draw attention - shots carried quite a distance, and if a hiker heard shooting… Ron didn't want to find out what Dumbledore would do to keep their location secret.

"The guards mentioned that as well. Apparently, they used to train more regularly - now it's down to once a month, and in an isolated spot," Sirius said.

Dumbledore didn't want his men talking to others, not even in the same organisation. Well, he still hadn't found the mole. If there was a mole in the first place - the leak could've been in CI5. Or an analyst had guessed their likely reaction to the Albanian connection. Or simply covered several of the possible leads they might've investigated. Although that would have increased the risk of being discovered. "It'd take too long to teach them how to shoot a gun under fire, anyway," Ron added.

"We don't know how long this will take," Harry replied. "And we don't know if the war on the other side is still going on."

"Well, basic training doesn't take that long…" Sirius trailed off.

Ron pressed his lips together. He didn't want Ginny and Luna to fight in a war. And certainly not on the front lines. Not even their counterparts had done that. On the other hand, he doubted he could keep them from getting involved.

"Oh, I know! We can get some laser training gear!" Sirius said. "And we can train with them. I'm certain that Dumbledore can get us a few sets."

Harry mumbled something about overpriced laser tag, but Ron nodded. It would certainly help. And, at the very least, keep Ginny busy without getting Hermione and Luna bruised.

He winced at seeing his sister teach the other two how to block a kick. Perhaps he should step in and teach Hermione himself.

* * *

"_We're not here to study for the O.W.L.s. We're here to learn how to fight." Harry faced the gathered students. "Voldemort has returned, and he's gathering his forces. Sooner or later, a war will start. And they'll come for you."_

_She watched the crowd while Harry spoke. She didn't pay attention to his speech - she had written most of it, anyway. Most of the students nodded in agreement. Some even looked eager - mostly Gryffindors. A number seemed to be having second thoughts - mostly Ravenclaws, as far as she could tell. She hoped that they had avoided recruiting any students who weren't serious about fighting, but they must have missed or misjudged a few._

_Well, that was what the contract was for. They couldn't force them to fight Death Eaters when the time came, but they wouldn't have to worry about traitors. _

"_We won't be learning exotic curses here. We won't be learning how to duel," Harry said._

_As if on cue, someone blurted out: "What?"_

_Ron stepped up. "We'll be learning how to fight - not how to compete in a tournament. In combat, you won't be duelling. You'll either be trying to get away or to take out the other bastard. And you won't be fighting fair. You'll be ganging up on your enemies whenever possible and using every dirty trick you've learnt. That's what we'll be practising here."_

_Harry nodded. "You won't be learning how to cast spells as much as you'll be learning how to use them. You'll learn how to cast when running, on the ground, on a broom, with one arm disabled, when silenced. A spell you can cast perfectly under any circumstances is far more useful than a dozen spells you can barely cast. The perfect curse for a situation is useless if you can't hit your target."_

_The assembled students looked a little taken aback. Had they still not realised what was at stake? She pursed her lips and shook her head before she spoke up. "We would be doing this even if our current Defence teacher wasn't useless. This isn't about passing the O.W.L.s. This is about fighting a war. You remember the contract you signed?" She smiled as she saw some of the students grow pale. "It's a magical contract. Don't try to betray us - to anyone. You won't like the consequences if you do."_

_If they survived the curses she had placed on the document in the first place, of course. Sirius and Remus hadn't just taught them how to fight over the summer, after all. Exotic dark curses had their uses, even if they weren't the best choice for fighting._


	20. Chapter 20: The Swiss Vacation

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 20: The Swiss Vacation**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 12th, 2005**

He studied the treeline through the scope of his rifle, slowly moving the barrel back and forth, but couldn't spot anything or anyone in the woods across the small field.

"This side's clear," Ron said into his radio. "Yours?"

"Clear," Harry answered. "They're taking their time."

"Think they're trying to wait until we're bored and start to get sloppy?" Ron asked.

"Sirius would grow bored before we did. Long before we did," Harry replied.

"But he's just advising them," Ron said. The older man's wound was still preventing him from taking part in this exercise. Or should - Ron wouldn't put it past Sirius to throw caution and medical advice to the wind and grab a sniper rifle to help the girls out.

He quickly scanned the treetops and other likely sniper nests, then adjusted his helmet. Although it was made of Kevlar instead of steel, the bloody thing was still heavy and cumbersome. And the laser sensors strapped to it didn't help matters any. "If he's got a sniper rifle, then we're in trouble," he added. "We won't be able to spot it even when he's firing." Normally, the laser tag gear - Ausbildungsgerät Duellsimulator, as the Bundeswehr called it - would be used with blank cartridges, but their sets had been modified so they, and the girls, would only need to pull the trigger to fire.

Which meant Harry and Ron wouldn't be able to use the noise from shooting, or the flash and smoke, to spot their positions. Neither would the girls, but then they were the attackers, so they had a rough idea where Harry and Ron were hiding already. If he and Harry were allowed to cross the clearing and hide in the woods from where the girls would approach them… but they weren't.

"Birds!" Harry hissed.

Ron saw them as well. Something had disturbed the birds in the woods on Harry's side. Someone, to be precise. "There they are," he whispered.

"Keep covering your side," Harry whispered back. "This might be a distraction."

A distraction? Sirius had been a tank commander. Would he think of such a trick? It was possible, but not too likely. Ginny or Luna? Ron doubted it. His sister was sneaky, but her home was the tennis court, not the outdoors, and Luna was even worse in nature. Hermione, though… well, she might think of it - she knew how Ron had spotted Berisha's men, after all. He frowned and focused on the tree line across the clearing. As Moody had taught them - always assume the worst. Of course, Moody also had taught them not to be predictable...

"It's a distraction," Harry said as more birds rose into the air, including a few crows who made their displeasure loudly known. "They're overdoing it."

"Probably Luna, then." That would fit her, in Ron's opinion. Ginny was too competitive to be a mere distraction - and had been too enthusiastic about their G36s when they had done some 'familiarisation exercises' yesterday. More enthusiastic, in fact, than she had been at her birthday party, though that was understandable, given the circumstances. He shook his head and forced himself to focus on the exercise, not yesterday. It wouldn't be Hermione; she had too much experience to be wasted on such a task.

"Or Sirius."

That would be a way for Sirius to take part without risking his recovery - and being left out of the next mission. Ron nodded. "He's certainly annoying enough when he tries," he joked.

Harry chuckled, then cursed and ducked. "Someone just missed me!"

Ron hadn't heard the sound from the system but quickly rolled behind the tree trunk next to his spot. "They know where we are."

"Yes. Let's move," Harry replied.

They quickly changed position, using a fallen tree as cover. They couldn't move the flag they were to guard - the objective of the exercise - but no one had said that they had to stay near it and so they had prepared a nice position further down Harry's side.

But how had the girls spotted them? Magic? Ron didn't think so. Hermione wouldn't be using magic with Dumbledore undoubtedly watching the exercise - and wanting to debrief them afterwards. So… He blinked. Luna had received a new toy at the same time they had received the laser tag gear, hadn't she? "Harry, I think Luna's watching us with a drone," he whispered.

"What?"

"The new RC helicopter she got, it uses an electric engine," Ron explained.

"Damn. And it's small enough so it can hide in the treetops. _That _must have disturbed the birds!"

"Yes. And I bet it's not rigged with a laser receptor." Which meant they couldn't shoot it down even if they spotted it. Ron shook his head. It wasn't quite cheating, but it was certainly bending the rules. They were supposed to train the girls, not actually compete, after all. "That was probably Ginny's idea," he muttered. His sister really hated to lose.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "But all we have to do is be more careful, and keep the drone's field of view in mind."

"Bushes should be enough to keep us hidden," Ron said. The small helicopter couldn't have a thermographic camera installed. And it wouldn't be able to stay aloft for long, either. All they had to do was wait a little longer.

Though the girls and Sirius would know that as well. On the other hand, he didn't think Sirius and Ginny would be patient enough to outwait them. Hermione might, and Luna would be, but they wouldn't be able to hold back the others. At least Ron didn't think so.

He crawled - slowly, so he wouldn't disturb the foliage and branches of the bush under which he was hiding - a little further. "I've got eyes on the flag," he whispered.

"I've got eyes on the approaches," Harry replied. "They'll try the distraction again, I think."

This time, Ron could hear the squawking of birds. He tensed, aiming for the flag on the ground.

Then something fell down next to it, and, a second later, the entire area was covered in thick smoke.

"Bloody hell!" he muttered. That was even worse cheating than the drone. Smoke wouldn't stop bullets, but it affected lasers. Not completely, so he started shooting at the flag's spot, but he'd need to be lucky to score a hit that would register on the sensors.

He wasn't. "Yes! We got the flag!" he heard Ginny yell.

Harry shot her as soon as the smoke started to settle.

* * *

"We won!" Ginny said for what felt like the tenth time.

"By exploiting the rules and mechanics," Ron retorted. "This would have been useless as a tactic with live weapons." He grabbed a can from the cooler in their 'break room', as they called the small clearing.

"So? It was within the rules."

"This wasn't about winning or losing," he told her. "This was about training."

"We trained to think outside the box." She huffed and grabbed a can of her own.

That was a line straight from Sirius, Ron could tell. "And if you try that in a real fight, you'll end up shot."

She froze for a fraction of a second, then glared at him before taking a big swallow from her drink. "We still beat you."

"And Harry shot you," Ron pointed out.

"The exercise was over by that point."

"You can slack off once you're... home," Ron retorted. Moody's original quote went 'once you're dead', but that wouldn't have been appropriate.

"This isn't home," she replied, nodding towards the laboratory.

"Exactly."

His sister rolled her eyes at that. "You're worse than Harry. Shouldn't you be kissing Hermione instead of lecturing me?"

"Shouldn't you be kissing Harry?" he shot back, glancing over his shoulder to check that the others were still working on Luna's new helicopter at the other end of the clearing.

"He shot me! I'm not going to snog him until he apologises."

"He'll do that - after talking to you about taking this exercise seriously, I think," Ron said.

"He's such a sore loser!"

Ron had to cough at that, which earned him another glare before Ginny huffed and went back to the others. He finished his can, grabbed another for Hermione and followed his sister.

"It can't stay aloft very long," he heard Luna explain. "but it's much quieter than our old helicopter."

"It can't carry us, either," Harry said.

"That's what the old helicopter is for!" Luna replied. "This one's for scouting!" She was smiling. "Like a drone."

"Technically, it is a drone," Hermione pointed out. "A remote-controlled unmanned craft."

Ron smiled - that was such a typical comment for her - and handed her the drink. "Here."

"Thank you." She flashed him a smile and opened the can.

Harry frowned. "Where's mine?"

"That was Ginny's task," Ron told him.

"No, it wasn't!" His sister glared at him, then looked at Harry, who didn't say anything in response.

Ron sighed. They'd work it out soon enough, but until then, it was a little annoying. "So… anything else to add about our exercise?"

"Other than that we beat you?" Ginny said quickly.

"We out-thought you," Luna added with a grin.

"You abused the rules," Harry said. "So apart from learning what won't work in a real fight, there's nothing to add. So… let's go back to actual training. You've got five minutes to set up in that part of the woods, and then we'll come for you. No drones, no smoke grenades, nothing but the rifles."

"You've had your fun," Ron added, "now it's time to train again."

"And time for me to return to work," Hermione said.

Ron nodded. He didn't like leaving her alone in the lab - even with Sirius around - but he could do more good here.

"I would love to join, but doctor's orders forbid it," Sirius told them.

That left Luna and Ginny. Ron couldn't help grinning at their expressions. They'd had their fun. Now Harry and he would have theirs.

* * *

"How did the training go?" Hermione asked a few hours later, when Ron, freshly showered, checked up on her before dinner. She was wearing slacks and a T-shirt, but her hair was still up in that messy ponytail she favoured.

"We made up for the time lost before," he said. He didn't glare at her, but he didn't bother to hide his opinion of what they had done.

She picked up on that, of course. "They needed it," she said, narrowing her eyes slightly. After a moment's hesitation, she added: "They're still not over the fighting." Her expression told him that he better not tell anyone.

He wouldn't, of course. But he liked her trusting him with this. "I don't expect them to be fine," he said. Getting over such an experience would take longer. He knew that himself.

"It's not just the trauma," she replied. "They don't want to feel helpless and useless."

"They aren't," he said with a frown. "Ginny drove the Land Rover, and Luna piloted the helicopter. Without either, we would have been in a lot of trouble."

"I know. I've told them that myself, but that doesn't alter the fact that they really did feel helpless out there." She shrugged as she sat down at her desk, then pulled on a sweater over her thin T-shirt.

"Beating us by abusing loopholes in the rules isn't going to help them," he pointed out, leaning against the wall next to the door. He didn't cross his arms - that would have made him look like he was more annoyed about this than he actually was.

"Thinking outside of the box is a very useful skill to learn," she countered. "Creative plans saved my and my friends' lives a few times."

"Unless you learn the wrong lessons," he replied.

"That's what the rest of the training is supposed to prevent, isn't it?" She shrugged again. "It's not as if you're going to turn them into soldiers with a few lessons, anyway."

"Every little bit helps." Not that he wanted Ginny and Luna to kill people anyway. They shouldn't have to go through that. And Mum and Dad would kill him.

"Unless it results in overconfidence." She didn't copy his stance and tone, but he got the hint.

"It's also giving them something to do." Mostly Ginny - Luna had her contacts on the net.

"Yes, and that's helping. At least in my non-professional opinion."

"Don't sell yourself short;" he told her as she walked over to him - and the door.

"I'm a physicist, not a psychologist."

"But you're also their friend. And a woman. You can help them where we can't," Ron said. Which hurt a little to admit - he was Ginny's brother and Luna's ex-boyfriend, he had known both of them practically since birth.

"I'm doing my best," she said. "And it seems to be helping."

"That's all we can ask."

She snorted at that. "Let's go. We don't want to hold up dinner, do we?"

"No, we don't." He shook his head, then sneaked a quick - or not so quick - kiss before she opened the door.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 15th, 2005**

As they returned from another training session in the woods, they saw Dumbledore sitting on a folding chair in front of the laboratory and watching the lake. Waiting for them.

"Ah, there you are! Good evening, gentlemen, ladies." The old man slowly stood and nodded at them. His suit was both expensive and immaculate - quite the contrast to their own baggy and muddy fatigues.

"Good evening, Mr Dumbledore," Harry replied. Ron nodded in greeting, as did Sirius.

"I hope you had a productive day," Dumbledore went on.

Ron shrugged in response. "We have to keep in shape." He was certain that their progress was being tracked, though they hadn't seen any overt surveillance.

"An admirable attitude." Dumbledore smiled like a teacher praising a favourite student.

"Did you find Sokolov?" Luna asked before the old man could continue.

Dumbledore looked taken aback and, for a moment, lost his patronising smile - but it returned at once. "Indeed, I did. Or, more precisely, some of my affiliates managed to discover where he is currently staying." He inclined his head. "Although I think we should discuss this in a more private setting."

Ron wondered if that was a subtle hint that Dumbledore's men had, by now, bugged the entire forest.

"By all means," Sirius agreed. "My shoulder's still not fully healed, and I'd rather sit down on a proper chair to talk about this. It'll be dinner time soon, as well."

"And we wouldn't want to exclude Hermione, would we?" Ron added. This was about her, after all.

"Oh, sorry!" Luna said, nodding several times. "I didn't think - I wanted to find out if I was right."

"Quite understandably, my dear," Dumbledore told her. "Curiosity gets the better of me at times as well."

Another hint? A warning? Ron couldn't tell.

"Shall I join you for dinner, then?"

"We'd love to have you," Sirius said - without any trace of sarcasm. It was an impressive lie - but then, Ron'd heard how Sirius had been raised. With those sorts of parents, you'd have had to learn how to hide your true feelings.

* * *

Dinner was, as usual, excellent. Perhaps even better than usual - delicious entre-côtes Café de Paris with pommes frites. Dumbledore certainly had a taste for French dishes, though it took until the crème brûlée was served for dessert for him to finally stop chatting about the economy, travelling, politics and the weather, and start talking about Sokolov.

"He has made himself very scarce indeed and avoided his usual stomping grounds - far more than even when Interpol was looking for him," the old man explained. "I think this means that he isn't just laying low and hiding from the authorities but also hiding from at least one of his former partners or employers."

"Do you know who those people are?" Harry asked.

"I know a number of them. Alas, Sokolov worked for and with a wide range of people, and even if we narrow the number down to those he would be afraid of, it's still over a dozen people," Dumbledore replied as he handed a list to Hermione.

"Influential people with many contacts, I presume," Sirius said.

"Very much so, yes." Dumbledore looked at Hermione. "Do any of the names seem familiar to you?"

She shook her head. "I don't recognise any of them."

"That means we have to talk to Sokolov. Or, at least, get access to his files," Ron said.

"How would we do that?" Luna leaned forward, her elbows pushing her plate and her glass to the side. "Do you know where his files are stored?"

"Unfortunately, I don't," the old man admitted. "He might have set up a dead man's switch so his data will be revealed to the public, should he become incapacitated, but the information would spread to everyone, and we don't know whether it would implicate the people after Dr Ganger."

"Not to mention that we don't murder people for their information," Harry pointed out.

"Yes," Luna agreed.

"Certainly not when crucial information might die with them," Hermione not-quite-agreed.

"Quite." Dumbledore acknowledged the rebuke with a nod of his head, but Ron was certain that the former spy only cared about the danger of others hearing about Hermione's secret.

"So, we need Sokolov. Where is he hiding?" Harry asked.

Ron leaned forward as well.

"Mr Sokolov has had an impressive career and has many contacts in Eastern Europe, the former USSR and the Middle East. However, not all of his contacts are as loyal as he thinks they are," Dumbledore said. "Or as security conscious as they should be, given their profession."

Ron kept a rein on his temper. He wanted to know where the bastard was hiding, not listen to some clever reveal, but it was Dumbledore's show.

"Of course, he counted on that - he let slip to selected people that he had a private island in the Aegean Sea while he actually went into hiding somewhere quite different." Dumbledore's smile grew a little more patronising. "However, he must not have been aware of the fact that, while the reputation of the Swiss banks for discretion and loyal service is well-earned, the Swiss authorities, in response to recent international pressure, do not protect their banks quite as fervently as they used to. Which means several proud and distinguished bankers might find themselves imprisoned, should their past business practices be revealed."

"Ah." So the old man's people were blackmailing Swiss bankers.

"So where is he?" Harry asked again.

"Twenty years ago, he bought a small cottage - a so-called 'chalet' - in La Punt Chamues-ch."

"Lapoont jamooash?" Luna asked.

Dumbledore corrected her pronunciation. "La Punt Chamues-ch. A small village in the Swiss Alps."

"Oh." Luna nodded. "And you think he's hiding there."

"I believe so," he replied. "My contact in Switzerland verified that the house is currently occupied - the water and electricity consumption is up compared to last month."

"And you want us to handle him?" Ron asked.

"You handled Mr Berisha admirably, despite the unexpected complications."

'Unexpected complications'... Ron had a mind to ask the old man if he had said the same thing whenever he lost a spy to a trap. Or still did.

"However," Dumbledore went on, "I don't have a backup team in place there, and moving one into the country would incur the risk of further leaks. So, although I doubt that Mr Sokolov's security is in the same league as Mr Berisha's, you would be operating with less support."

"But better secrecy," Harry pointed out. "Unless you've found any moles in your organisation."

"The efforts to tighten security are ongoing," Dumbledore said. Had his smile slipped a little? Ron couldn't tell. "Although, at this point, I don't believe that there was a highly-placed informant. I think it's more likely that someone managed to combine intelligence received through various channels - including sources outside the Phoenix Gruppe."

"Such as Yaxley," Ron said, frowning.

"If he wasn't silenced as a loose end, he might be working as an analyst now." Dumbledore shrugged. "At least as long as he proves his worth."

Harry shook his head. "He isn't that good."

"But he knows you - better than anyone else our still unknown enemies have access to, I'd wager."

Ron nodded in agreement. "Well, that means that once we find out who is behind this, we might find Yaxley as well."

"Indeed." Dumbledore smiled widely. "Although, first, we need to find out what - and who - Mr Sokolov knows."

"I don't think Sokolov will talk to us," Ron said. The man would be paranoid.

"And if he did, I doubt we could trust him to tell the truth," Harry added. "We'll have to kidnap him."

Hermione nodded in agreement, Ron noticed, but Luna was frowning, and Ginny… she was likely putting on a brave front.

"That will require a little more extensive planning, I believe," Sirius said. "The Swiss aren't as lax as NATO are in Kosovo."

"But they also don't have their military ready to intervene at a moment's notice," Dumbledore pointed out.

"The village is close to St Moritz," Luna said. "Surely they have competent police forces to protect all the billionaires?"

"Their numbers are limited," Dumbledore replied, "and, since it's summer, the jet-set aren't present in the area. That will affect the priorities of the local police."

Ron couldn't help noticing that both Luna and Dumbledore seemed to assume that there would be another firefight like in Kosovo. "Their numbers and state of readiness won't matter if no one notices us," he said.

"Or if we divert them to another location," Hermione suggested. "We could fake an attack on someone else."

"We'd have to split up for that," Sirius pointed out with a frown.

That wasn't a bad thing, either, Ron thought. Ginny and Luna could do the diversion - they would be safe.

Hermione, though, dashed his hopes. "We can set up the diversion in advance and start it remotely. A few recordings of gunfire, a few planted charges… if done at night, it'll be enough to occupy the police. We could even start two or three diversions."

"A fine idea, although such preparations will require a significant effort and increase the risk of discovery," Dumbledore replied. "Sokolov might have people in place checking for suspicious activity. Which is why flying directly to Samedan Airport near St Moritz is inadvisable in my opinion - it is an obvious location to put under surveillance."

"Then we'll take a detour," Sirius said, shrugging. "We'll need to plan our escape in advance, though - if it's in the Alps, the mountains will hem us in and there'll be natural choke points, which the police will know." Sirius frowned. "We'll need maps of the area."

With a smug smile, Dumbledore pulled out a bundle from his jacket. "Here."

"Perfect!" Sirius took them and unfolded one, and Harry had to react quickly to keep a wine bottle from toppling over when Sirius pushed his plate away, before joining his godfather in studying the map, followed by Luna and Hermione. Ginny, too, after a moment - probably so she wouldn't feel left out.

Everyone seemed to assume that they'd all go together, again. Ron pressed his lips together. Ginny and Luna weren't ready for a fight - that would take far longer than the few days they had spent training.

"I think all of you will be pulling your weight," Dumbledore said as if the old man had read Ron's mind. "Many crucial tasks on such a mission do not require shooting a gun."

Which, Ron knew, didn't mean someone wouldn't be taking a shot at you. But there was no way Ginny and Luna would agree to stay behind - and if they did, Ron and the others might end up short a set of hands at a critical moment.

If only Dumbledore could trust his men; they wouldn't have to take Ginny and Luna along if they could get a few trained men instead.

At least Ron would ensure that Luna and Ginny wouldn't be in danger. Not this time.

* * *

**Flughafen Kloten, Zürich, Switzerland, August 17th, 2005**

The armoured SUV was waiting at the airport, as ordered. At least that had worked out as planned - their flight from Frankfurt had been delayed by an hour, and it had taken another thirty minutes before they had been able to recover their luggage. At least the fake identities they had been using courtesy of Dumbledore had held up to the customs officers' scrutiny - Ron had been worried about that, but, obviously, counterfeit passports provided by Dumbledore were far ahead of the usual fake IDs he knew from his work.

In any case, they were in Switzerland. And all their gear, and then some, was safely stored in Hermione's beaded bag.

"You know, Hermione, you could make a fortune smuggling," Sirius said after Luna had checked for bugs in the car and they had left the airport. Ginny was at the wheel, with Sirius navigating, or so he claimed.

"What?" Hermione gasped. "Smuggling? Are you mad?"

"Really? You're currently smuggling weapons, aren't you?"

"Very funny," Hermione said, in a tone that made it clear she thought it was anything but.

Sirius chuckled. "Seriously, though, we'll have to look into using the opportunity to stock up on contraband here. Duty-free takes on a whole new meaning if you've got a bag of holding that, thanks to magic, will fool the customs officers."

"It's not a bag of holding," Hermione replied through clenched teeth.

Ron carefully didn't laugh. But he grinned.

* * *

**St. Moritz, Switzerland, August 17th, 2005**

Three hours later, they were pulling up in front of the Grand Hotel Carlton in St Moritz, one of the oldest luxury hotels in the area. And, as Ron noticed when he got out, perhaps in need of some makeover.

"Remember, you're a group of rich students with more money than sense, and I'm your driver and bodyguard, paid by Ginny and Ron's parents," Sirius said.

"I think, by now, we all know our cover story by heart," Hermione replied.

"We should," Ginny said. "You quizzed us during the drive."

It wasn't the most elaborate cover story, and probably not the best, either, but it would do, Ron thought. They certainly didn't look like a group about to kidnap a wealthy but shady businessman. Provided, of course, their disguises held, and Harry stopped acting like a bodyguard himself. Rich young men didn't take note of the area around them like that.

But Ginny was on the job. If anyone knew how to act like a member of the jeunesse dorée, it was Ron's sister. She might not have grown up rich, but after a few years on the WTA tour, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference compared to any other rich girl. Especially if Harry played his part. He had been raised by Sirius, after all.

Although if they were mistaken for part of the nouveau-riche, it would only help with their cover. And it would irk Sirius.

He got out, then waited for Hermione to get out. Like Ginny and Luna, she was wearing a summer dress that, to anyone who knew their fashion, looked as expensive as it actually had been. Not to mention sexy, he added to himself with a smile as he offered her his arm.

"Shouldn't you have held the door for me?" she asked as she joined him.

"We don't want to be too perfect," he told her with a grin.

She snorted. "Good excuse."

"As I was taught, what you do and say matters far less than whether or not you have an excuse ready."

"Your parents never taught you that!" she exclaimed as they walked towards the entrance while Sirius parked the car.

"No, they didn't. But I never said that, did I?" He grinned. "However, I learned quite a lot from my older brothers. And Sirius, of course."

She sighed. "I can imagine."

Once more, Ron was reminded of the fact that the wizard Weasleys were very similar to his own family. Just with the ability to bend reality to their whims.

He managed not to sigh as they entered the hotel.

* * *

Their room was spacious, but a little old-fashioned for a luxury hotel. Ron would have expected slightly more modern amenities. It still was more modern than Grimmauld Place, though. And far more expensive than Ron would have been able to afford.

He kicked his shoes off and sat down on the bed. "You can have the first shower," he told Hermione as she put down her beaded bag of holding on the other side of the bed. "Unless you want to share," he added with a wink.

She blushed a little, and he could see that she was tempted. But, after a moment, she shook her head. "We should focus on the reason we're here."

"It would look weird if, right after we arrived, we went out to explore the countryside. We've spent hours in a plane and more hours in a car," he pointed out, grinning. "And we're currently rich students on vacation - we've got leisure time aplenty."

"This sounds like another excuse," she said, frowning at him. But she was still flushed.

"I've thoroughly learned this particular lesson," he replied, propping up his head with his hand as he laid down on his side.

"You say that as if that's something of which you should be proud," she retorted with another frown.

"As long as it gets results…" He smiled a little wider at her. She was tempted, very tempted - he could tell. "Besides," he added, "if we share the shower, we won't take much longer than if we go one after another."

She laughed at that, then shook her head. "Is that false modesty or sudden honesty talking?"

Hey now! It was his turn to frown, which made her laugh again. "I think you should find out for yourself," he said, standing up and moving towards her.

She licked her lips as he came closer and tilted her head to meet his eyes. "It wouldn't be fair to the others."

"You think Ginny and Harry aren't doing the same thing right now?"

"Luna and Sirius aren't," she retorted.

Well, Ron certainly hoped they didn't become a couple. That would be very weird. Out loud, he said: "How's that different from back at the lab?"

She scrunched her nose, frowning, as she tried to think of an answer to that. After a few seconds, she huffed, turned around and walked towards the bathroom without answering.

But she started pulling off her clothes halfway there and glanced at him over her shoulder.

* * *

**La Punt Chamues-ch, Switzerland, August 18th, 2005**

Sokolov's house didn't look like the vacation home of a rich Russian businessman. It was roughly the same size as its neighbours, and Ron couldn't spot any ostentatious show of wealth, either. In fact, it wasn't even unique - he had seen an identical building on the way into the village.

"Did he buy the house off the shelf?" he asked as he stopped walking and pulled out a drinking bottle from his backpack.

"Standard design," Hermione said. "It certainly helps with staying under the radar."

"Clever!" Luna commented. "But boring as well."

"If you go into hiding, you want to appear boring and unremarkable," Harry said.

"But wouldn't that be expected?" Luna replied. "If everyone expects your hideout to be boring, you might want to be flamboyant instead. Your enemies won't expect that. Or hide in plain sight."

Ron hoped Luna didn't decide to take her own advice. "That doesn't work very well," he pointed out. "If you stand out, you're more likely to be noticed."

"Yes," Ginny agreed. "It's the same with the press. And it means that even if they spot you, the pictures they take won't be published because they're boring." She stretched.

"Unless that's their angle," Sirius added.

"That only affects celebrities who actually depend on being glamorous," Ginny replied. "Besides, you can dress boringly and still look good." She ran a hand over her front for emphasis.

Like all of them, she was dressed for hiking, though in Ginny's place Ron wouldn't want to leave the trails - her short-shorts and T-shirt left a lot of skin bare, which wouldn't exactly be ideal if you had to move through a dense forest or field. On the other hand, these hiking trails were quite extensive and well cared for, so it wasn't exactly an unsuitable outfit. Even though he felt it was a little too close to the outfits that she wore on the tennis court. Though with her hair dyed, and some makeup, she shouldn't be recognised.

"We should focus on our objective," Hermione said. "Not on the vagaries of the press."

"There's not much on which we can focus," Ron pointed out. Sokolov had an average fence, an average yard and an average house. Even the Dursleys would consider this a little too ordinary, he thought.

"I bet the security system isn't average, though," Luna said. "Though I can't tell from here. We need to get closer to the house. Much closer."

They'd have to leave the trail for that, which would draw attention from any competent bodyguard. "We can do that at night," Ron said. "And place cameras at the same time." This trip was mostly to get familiar with the area during the day, after all.

"The garage is a standard size as well," Harry remarked. "That means they'll have a smaller car, or it'll take them longer to get into a bigger car without having to drive it out first."

"We'll have to sabotage the garage, anyway," Ron pointed out. "To prevent Sokolov from escaping."

"That will require more information," Hermione said.

"We've got the time," Ron replied. He really didn't want to go in blind, like with Berisha.

"We'll have to scout out the locations for the distractions as well," Ginny said.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "And we need a good cover. So we'll hike a lot so we won't only be seen near the areas of interest."

Sirius groaned. "If I wanted to walk around like a bloody farm animal, I'd have joined the infantry!"

Harry patted his godfather's back. "Consider it your daily training regime."

Sirius expression made everyone chuckle. Even Hermione and Luna, who weren't much fitter than he was.

* * *

**St. Moritz, Switzerland, August 19th, 2005**

"They definitely have an advanced security system," Luna said between taking bites out of a croissant, tapping on a picture they had taken yesterday. "That's an infrared sensor in the backyard, above the door to the terrace. Calibrated not to react to small animals, I bet, or it'd wake everyone up every time a fox passed through."

"Detecting an intrusion so close to the house wouldn't be enough to stop a dedicated attack. Not the sort they launched at us," Sirius said. "And the house isn't big enough for a dozen bodyguards." He took a sip from his tea, then carefully put his cup down on one of the scarce free spots on the table in Ron and Hermione's room. "They'll need active and passive defences."

"The glass door looks armoured," Harry said. "The windows are probably bulletproof as well. And the curtains keep anyone from tracking people inside the house."

Ron nodded. Even the thermographic cameras they had installed last night had trouble detecting anything inside - the house had really good insulation.

"I think Sokolov counts on not being found," Hermione said. "I don't think he expects to be able to fend off an attack."

"He'll still have an escape plan," Luna replied. "Probably an underground tunnel."

That sounded a little far-fetched. Ron doubted that Sokolov would have been able to dig a tunnel in secret through half a Swiss village. On the other hand, Berisha had had an escape tunnel.

"We'd need special equipment to detect a tunnel," Hermione said. "And that would be hard to hide."

"We won't need to detect a tunnel if we surprise Sokolov and catch him before he can flee." Ron pointed at the small balcony on the first floor. "What about dropping us - Harry and me - off there with the silent chopper? Shrunk, we could sneak inside and wait until the potion's effect ends."

"I don't think you'd be able to sneak into the house like that," Luna said. "They don't keep the windows open, according to our surveillance."

"They open them during the day," Ron retorted. His plan would keep everyone but Harry and himself safe, and, if they could get inside, they'd achieve complete surprise.

"We wouldn't be able to use the RC helicopter during the day," Luna said. "Too obvious."

And sneaking through the yard while shrunk would be dangerous - and take quite some time. And they would have to wait until someone opened the door or a window, then sneak in. That could take hours. They would have to drink quite a lot of Shrinking Solution to have enough time for the worst case. Which meant they would have to hide for hours inside - if things went well.

Possible but not ideal.

"Oh, I have an idea!" Luna piped up with a wide smile.

That was either a very good, or a very bad thing, Ron knew.

* * *

_Seeing the throngs of people filling the streets, it was hard to imagine that they were fighting a civil war in the same country. The same city, even - the Ministry was in London, after all. Not that any of the muggles around them, going clubbing or drinking, would be aware of that._

_She shook her head. She wouldn't think of the war. Not now._

"_Is something wrong?" Ron asked. He was tense and looking around._

"_No." She smiled at him. "I was just considering how peaceful all this is."_

"_Ah." He nodded, obviously relaxing. _

"_I'm not having second thoughts," she told him._

"_Ah." He smiled, almost shyly. "Just… it's OK if you do."_

_That was out of the question. She had planned this thoroughly. Picked the movie, the club and the hotel. "We might be dead tomorrow. Today, I want to live," she said, facing him. Before he could answer, she reached out and wrapped her arms around him, hands digging into his hair._

_She felt his arms around her as she pulled him closer, and they kissed._

_A group of drunk young men whistled as they passed her and Ron, but she didn't pay them any mind. _

_Today, nothing and no one else but them mattered._


	21. Chapter 21: The Middleman

As usual, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 21: The Middleman**

**La Punt Chamues-ch, Switzerland, August 22nd, 2005**

Ron held his breath as he saw the dark shape of Sokolov's house - his chalet, as the locals called it - loom out of the darkness in front of them. Well, the almost darkness - the street lights were still on. The electric RC helicopter was very quiet - unless you were two inches tall and inside it. It was hard to imagine that Sokolov's people wouldn't notice its approach, even though it was past midnight already.

And now came the dangerous part. Luna had trained for hours for this during the last two nights, and she had gotten the hang of it. Ron trusted her, and the moon was very bright - the full moon had been on the 19th - but he couldn't help recalling her first attempts to pilot the helicopter at night with her night vision goggles…

There came the roof. If the toy hit it, then the guards inside were bound to notice it - at least Ron would if he were in their place. But the helicopter stopped. And Luna's voice sounded from the small mobile phone they had squished into the helicopter between Ron and Harry. "Waiting for instructions!"

Ron leaned out of the open door and peered down and ahead. "We're about…" He mentally calculated the distance relative to his current size. "...one yard out and two yards up."

"Alright!" Luna whispered, though her voice was far too loud for Ron's peace of mind.

The helicopter started to slowly move ahead.

"Half a yard… one foot. Stop!" Ron called out. "Start descending."

"Alright!"

He saw the roof grow closer as the helicopter lost altitude. At around one foot, he called out "Stop!"

"Copy!" Luna replied, and the helicopter stopped its movement, hovering in the air. Ron kicked the string they had spooled up out of the door, then attached his harness to it. "Ready?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Harry on the other side.

"Yes," his friend replied.

"Going down!" Ron announced, then climbed out and rappelled down, Harry doing the same on his side.

They hit the roof almost simultaneously, then went to its edge and fastened more string to the roof rail there. By the time they were set for the next step, the helicopter had already left and headed back to Luna. And, after checking for spiders or other dangerous creatures hiding beneath the rail, they started climbing down. Towards the infrared-sensor.

They had to traverse a little, which was tricky - but for two-inch tall people, the walls of the chalet offered plenty of hand- and footholds. Far easier than the climbing wall at the academy. A few minutes later, they were straddling the sensor.

Now came the hard part: disabling it with miniaturised tools. Without triggering an alarm. Ron got the muscle-powered drill out and got to work - they needed a hole so they could use the shrunken saws.

It took them fifteen minutes to cut out and remove a large enough section of the sensor's casing, and Ron was sweating by the time they could finally access the electronics. Sawing through plastic that thick took a lot of effort.

"Alright, mate," Harry said. "Cut the blue or the red wire?"

Ron chuckled. There wasn't a red wire at all in the thing. "Let me check the schematics Luna gave us." If the sensor wasn't among the types for which Luna had found schematics, they would have to improvise.

But as it turned out after five more minutes, one of the schematics Ron had carried matched the sensor. "It's this wire," he said, tapping the thick cable in question. Plastic, wrapped around three thinner cables filled with wires.

Harry cursed. "That will be a bitch to cut through."

It took them twenty minutes to cut a strip of plastic covering free so they could get started on the actual wire, and fifteen more until they could finally use the wire-cutters on the bundle of copper inside. The Shrinking Solution wouldn't last much longer.

Ron cut frantically, sweat soaking his shirt and black fatigues. He couldn't simply cut away - he had to keep bending the remains away so he could get to the next wire. And without getting electrocuted.

But they made it - Harry snipped the last wire, and both of them were still miniaturised. "Let's climb down," Harry muttered, already gripping the string on his side.

Ron followed his example after storing the wire cutters in his harness. Rappelling down was easy, but it was a very long drop for their size. And below them waited a lawn hiding spiders and worse.

As they hit the ground and ran towards the door to the terrace, Ron hoped that the potion's effect would end soon. He really, really didn't want to fight any giant spiders today. Or any other animal.

They reached the door, then took cover behind a planter in the corner - filled with herbs, not flowers. Ron didn't fancy getting caught by an owl, or another predator.

"Don't get too far behind it," Harry whispered. "Don't want to topple it once we start growing."

"Yes." Ron rolled his eyes. They'd gone over that during planning. But arguing over it in the middle of the op wouldn't help anyone. At least they wouldn't have to wait for long - by his count, and his watch agreed, they only had a few minutes left.

But even so, waiting and hoping no fox, owl or any other predator would pass by and spot them was nerve-wracking. The rifles they had with them wouldn't do much to a cat, much less a fox. Not at their current size - Ron knew enough about firearms and hunting to be aware of that. Perhaps they should have taken an elephant rifle instead. Or an RPG…

When he felt the now familiar rippling sensation, he was very much relieved, even though he almost didn't manage to get out from behind the planter before he was restored to his normal size.

Crouching next to the wall, out of view from the inside, he heard Harry whisper into the radio: "Team One, ready."

"We're ready as well," Luna replied.

Ron heard Sirius complain about proper protocols as Ginny reported: "Team Three, ready."

He looked at Harry, pulled his night-vision goggles down, then drew his silenced pistol and whispered: "Let's do this!"

His friend nodded and went back to the door. Ron peered through the window in the door. The living room behind it looked empty. "Don't see a guard," he whispered.

Harry nodded and pulled out his lockpicks. Two minutes later, he pushed the door open, and they entered the chalet.

They had the blueprints of the chalet - it was a standard design, after all. That meant the main bedroom would be on the first floor - unless he had chosen another room. That might complicate matters a little. He wished they could just flood the house with some magical compound that would knock out everyone inside, but Hermione hadn't had anything on hand that wasn't administered orally, and they couldn't risk the mundane compounds. Not without risking killing everyone inside. The Russians had demonstrated that in the Moscow Theatre Hostage Crisis. They had to do this the normal way.

Harry took point, sneaking through the living room. The kitchen was empty - they could check through the open door - but Ron heard light snoring from a smaller room to the side, and Harry raised his hand, then pointed at it.

Ron didn't bother nodding - he passed Harry and checked the room. It was a guest room with a bunk bed. Two men were sleeping there, both almost too tall for the bed - Ron could see feet hanging out. He doubted that either one was Sokolov, but sneaked over to check anyway.

Bodyguards. He pulled out one of the syringes in his front pocket. Two quick injections later, Ron could be certain that they wouldn't wake up until tomorrow, not even if there was a shoot-out in the room.

He returned to the living room and signalled two down to Harry. His friend nodded, then pointed at the stairs. Showtime.

Ron wet his lips, then went up the stairs, pistol in hand. He didn't like this - shooting people for getting in his way was wrong even if they were likely hired thugs - but they had no real choice. They needed Sokolov's information.

But he reached the upper floor without being spotted. There were three doors here, all closed, with the one leading to the main bedroom straight ahead of him. Ron crouched at the top of the stairs, covering the other two doors as Harry passed him and went ahead.

The first of the smaller rooms contained another bunk bed - Ron caught a glimpse of it as Harry sneaked inside. A minute later, his friend reappeared, signalling two more men down.

Four down. That was about as many as they had suspected. But there was one more room to check before the main bedroom. Ron moved ahead, covered by Harry, and pushed the door open. Another bunk bed - but an empty one. The room was occupied, though.

Damn. Ron gritted his teeth. Sokolov must have someone standing guard inside his bedroom. Or two.

"One or two missing," he whispered as he moved back into the hallway.

Harry nodded, his lips twisting into a frown beneath his goggles. One, potentially two guards awake inside the bedroom was bad news.

"The door's locked," Harry whispered. "And it's a security door."

That was worse. No gap beneath it to slide a camera or mirror through to to check inside. And if they started to pick the lock, a guard inside was bound to notice. They could wait until the shift change - but that could be another hour or two, easily. Perhaps even longer. Although… standard procedure would call for a patrol in irregular intervals. And guards had to pee as well. They could wait.

But what if the next shift was expected to relieve the guard or guards inside, and didn't come? That would alert the guard that something had gone wrong. And who knew what they would do in response? Call the police?

Ron wet his lips again. "We'll have to break in," he whispered.

"They'll notice," Harry replied.

Ron nodded. To be precise, the guards might not notice, if Harry got lucky, but if he wasn't, then the guards would be ready for them when the door opened. And both Harry and Ron were well aware of what usually happened if you entered through a door and found the other side prepared for your arrival. Or gone through a secret escape route.

No, the risk was too high. "We'll have to force it," he whispered.

He could see Harry's lips twist into a frown. They could blow the door. Disorient the guards at the same time. But to disable them without killing? That would be tricky. Very tricky.

"Blow the door, follow up with flashbangs and tear gas," Harry said. "Then take them down and secure them."

Ron nodded. It was more dangerous than shooting the guards - but they wouldn't be killing them. And the risk of accidentally killing Sokolov would be greatly reduced as well. But their own risk of getting hurt - or killed - would increase. "Prepare the charge, I'll inform the others that we'll need the distractions."

"At least we won't have to recover them," Harry replied.

"Team One to Team Three. Fire the distractions," Ron whispered into his radio.

"Team Three, gotcha!" Ginny replied. A moment later, she added: "Distractions fired."

Harry was already setting up the charges on the door - more of them than usual for a room. But this bedroom had been modified into a panic room. At least it meant they wouldn't be able to hear them whispering.

"Will they be enough?" Ron asked once Harry had finished.

"Yes." Ron's friend sounded confident. And he knew his business.

Ron still looked the setup over, then nodded. He couldn't think of anything he'd do differently. Good. He checked the time. Five minutes since the distractions had started. They had to wait at least ten more minutes for the police officers on duty to get mobilised and reach the areas in question. But if they waited too long, then any latecomers might be directed towards them as soon as Sokolov's neighbours alerted the police.

If this were Britain, Ron would have been able to predict the police response quite precisely. But this was Switzerland - he didn't know enough about the local police to tell.

It all came down to a roll of the dice, in the end. Let's hope it'll come up a twenty, Ron thought with a snort.

"Something funny?" Harry asked.

"Just a stray thought," Ron told him.

The minutes passed. If a guard had to go to the toilet, then they could rush the room and would avoid alerting the neighbours. Or scaring them.

But no one did before the ten minutes were over. "Team One. We're going in," Ron said.

"Team Two. Be careful," Hermione replied.

"Always," he lied as he patted the pouch that held the vial with a healing potion.

Then he looked at Harry, pulled his gas mask on and grabbed a CS grenade and a flashbang. "Ready," he said, pressing himself against the wall next to the door.

"Ready," Harry replied and detonated the charges.

The door wasn't blown fully open - but there was a sizeable gap. More than wide enough for a couple grenades. Harry's flashbang flew inside, followed by Ron's CS grenade. As soon as the grenades went off, Ron swung around and threw himself against the door, shoulder-first.

The door broke under the impact and crashed to the floor. He rolled to the side and came up in a crouch behind a toppled table as Harry charged into the room behind him. One figure was stumbling around in the tear gas cloud, waving a gun. Ron struck the man's head with his pistol, knocking the man down, then followed up with a kick to the head. "One down," he snapped, crouching down again.

"Two down," Harry answered.

Something - someone - was moving on the bed. Sokolov! Ron quickly stepped closer to the coughing and crying figure. They just had to…

Something hit him in the chest, and he stumbled back before he heard the shot. Another shot rang out, and Ron dropped to the floor. Bloody hell, Sokolov was armed! And Ron's chest hurt, despite his vest stopping the bullet.

More shots were fired as Ron rolled towards the bed, groaning at the pain that caused. The man had to be near blind from the tear gas, so he couldn't see what he was shooting at - firing blindly. That meant… The shots stopped, and Ron rose, then came down on the figure on the bed, knocking the gun away.

A few blows to the head and arms later, the man - Sokolov, Ron recognised the face at this distance - stopped struggling and tried to cover his head with his arms. Ron quickly secured him with cable binders on his wrists and ankles. "Got him!"

"Got the two others secured," Harry replied as he came over, using a flashlight to check the man's face. "That's him."

"Yes. Let's go!"

Each of them grabbed one of Sokolov's arms, and they quickly carried him out of the demolished room. Even with the distractions, the police would be here shortly - but that didn't mean that they would find anything.

Ron and Harry dropped Sokolov off in the hallway, then dragged the two secured bodyguards out of the room and into one of the smaller bedrooms. They quickly sedated the two bodyguards before leaving the room again. The tear gas would linger, but it wouldn't enter the other bedrooms through closed doors - not in significant amounts, at least.

Harry fed a vial of Shrinking Solution to Sokolov, then put him into a cushioned box that would let him breathe and pocketed him.

"Team One to Teams Two and Three, status?" Ron asked as they went down to the ground floor,

"Team Two. No sign of the police, yet," Hermione answered.

"Team Three. All clear," Sirus added.

"Neighbour's awake," Harry said, nodding towards the closest house, where the lights had gone on.

It wasn't a problem. The lights would have ruined the residents' night vision, yet were not bright enough to cover Harry and Ron's escape route.

"Team One withdrawing. Got the objective," Ron announced as they left through the back door. Then they sprinted through the garden, quickly went over the wall, and headed straight back to Team Two.

It was time to disappear.

Five minutes later, they were stripping off their fatigues behind a few trees and bushes.

"Ah, tear gas… the smell of rebellion," Luna commented, holding up Harry's top - at arm's length, of course; she knew better than to actually sniff fabric soaked with tear gas.

"Stuff it into the plastic bag and seal it," Hermione told her. "We don't want all our equipment and supplies to become contaminated."

"It might improve the taste of some of the rations," Ron joked as he slipped his boots off.

"Very funny," Hermione replied in a flat tone. "The rations are sealed, so… What happened to you?" She gasped.

Ron winced. She had noticed his vest. "A lucky shot from Sokolov. The vest stopped it," he told her. "I'm fine."

"I'll check that as soon as possible," Hermione said.

Ron had no doubt that she would already be inspecting his body with a flashlight if they didn't have to avoid drawing attention by such displays. He tried not to wince when he pulled his top off - that hurt. And he ignored Harry's snort.

Five minutes later, dressed appropriately for tourists, and with everything suspicious as well as Sokolov hidden inside Hermione's bag of holding, they were on the way to Sirius and Ginny - and the fireplace they had built earlier in the evening.

If the police stopped them on the way back to the hotel, the smell of tear gas lingering in their hair would be suspicious. But the smell of smoke from a fire? Perfectly natural for a group of tourists having a barbecue. Or whatever the Swiss called it.

Not that there was a high chance of getting stopped by the police, anyway. Odds were, the local police would dismiss any reports of an explosion in La Punt Chamues-ch as a prank or someone using up fireworks left over from the 1st of August. Until the bodyguards woke up and managed to free themselves, of course.

* * *

**St. Moritz, Switzerland, August 22nd, 2005**

"'I'm fine'? Really?" Hermione's voice dripped with scorn as she traced Ron's bruise with her finger.

"Well, nothing broken, no blood…" He trailed off in a hiss when her finger pressed down a little. He would have taken a step back, but his back was already leaning against the wall in the hotel room's bathroom.

"'Fine'!" She shook her head, then pulled a small tin out of her bag and opened it. "Hold still, This ointment will deal with it."

He didn't argue about saving the magical salve. The bruise might look suspicious to anyone who knew about getting shot with a vest. And it hurt quite a lot.

She dipped her finger into it, then put a dollop on his skin and started to rub it in.

Ron sighed with relief as the pain faded wherever the salve touched his skin. "Thank you."

She huffed in response. "You're worse than my Harry."

"Oh?" Her Harry?

"He would claim he was fine after breaking his arm playing Quidditch. Or worse!"

"Ah." He shrugged - that didn't hurt anymore! - and added: "It didn't stop me."

"You had trouble dressing yourself," she retorted.

"Well… only once we were done." Not during the fight. Adrenaline had carried him through that.

She sighed. "Some people..." Then her sigh turned into a yawn.

"Let's head to bed?" he asked. It was late - or, rather, it was now early; the sun was already rising outside. And both of them were too tired for anything but sleep.

"Yes. I just need to take out Sokolov, first," she said. "If the Shrinking Solution's effect ends while he's in the bag, and in that transport box…"

Ron winced at the picture that conjured in his mind. "Yes. We can stash him under the bed. In a sleeping bag." Just in case someone ignored their 'Do Not Disturb' sign.

A few minutes later, they fell asleep in each other's arms.

* * *

"So, how is he?" Ron asked six hours later, between taking bites out of his sandwich. It was too late for a proper breakfast, not quite early enough for lunch.

"Medicine is not my speciality, but he looks healthy enough, apart from the bruises," Hermione replied as she stood from where she had been kneeling next to Sokolov.

"Good." If they couldn't keep the man sedated without risking his life, they would have had to adjust their plans. And Ron didn't really care about the bruises - the man had tried to shoot him, after all. Of course, Ron had been about to kidnap him, but in Sokolov's business, that was to be expected.

"He still needs an infusion to keep him from dehydrating," she went on, stretching.

"Alright," he replied. "Can you hand me a bag and some duct tape?" He'd have to fix the bag to the underside of the bed - a stand was out of the question.

She didn't question him or made a joke about duct taping criminals as Harry would have done. She simply handed him a roll of duct tape and a bag of saline drip.

"It still feels weird," he commented as he got to work. "Hiding him under the bed…"

"It's the most practical solution to preserve our resources and keep us safe," she told him. Their magical resources, of course.

He grunted in agreement as he set up the drip. The Shrinking Solution was too damn useful to waste on anything non-essential, as last night had proved once more. Still, seeing a bound and sedated man under a bed in a hotel room seemed to fit a comedy more than reality. At least they were pretty safe - Ron doubted that anyone would suspect them. The concierge had seen them enter, after all, and they couldn't have carried a body with them. It wasn't the best alibi, but it would do. At least until they left tomorrow morning. "Has the news about the kidnapping broken already?"

She switched the telly on and flipped through a few channels until she found some news. There was nothing about a kidnapping, though. "Perhaps the radio might be a better choice," she said, "Local news might not make national television."

"If you can understand it, sure," Ron replied.

"I've been studying German a little, lately," she said, sitting down on the bed. She froze for a moment with a frown, looking down - Sokolov would be directly beneath where she was sitting. Then she pursed her lips. "I should be able to understand enough to know if the news reports the kidnapping."

But the radio didn't report anything about a kidnapping once the news came on. Though La Punt Chamues-ch was mentioned, Hermione claimed it was just another report of the 'fireworks' event. Once more, she pursed her lips. "Would the police keep it secret from the press so as not to endanger the investigation?"

Ron shook his head. "Impossible. They couldn't hide the investigation at Sokolov's house - they would have to check the garden, the area around it, cordon everything off and canvass the neighbourhood… You can't hide that. Someone would inform the news." And the police wouldn't really mind - it would probably stop the jokes about their 'overreaction' to 'fireworks' which Ron knew would be made.

Hermione nodded. "Perhaps the bodyguards haven't woken up yet."

"They should've," Ron said. "We were very careful with the dosage." He shrugged. "Perhaps the bodyguards decided to flee rather than report it. If the police started an investigation, they would have come under scrutiny as well." And given the sort of people Sokolov did business with, odds were his bodyguards would be persons of interests for a few other investigations as well. "They might even loot whatever cash and valuables Sokolov had with him."

"Convenient, if it's true."

"Yes." Unless, of course, one or more of the bodyguards decided that they didn't want to share with the others.

A house full of bodies would certainly make national news. International, even.

Although someone willing to murder his former comrades would likely have sold out Sokolov at the first opportunity. Still, you could never be sure.

Ron shook his head. "So, the plan's still on. We'll be the happy couple spending the entire day in bed, after a night out with our friends."

"Yes."

He grinned. "And we should make it believable. Our alibi will look much better if the hotel staff who deliver our meals can confirm that we spent the day in bed."

"Yes." She was grinning as well. "We should do our best to make it as authentic as possible."

* * *

They had given it their best shot, as far as Ron could tell, hours later, as dinner time approached and he took a shower. Their lovemaking had been different, at the start at least. More frantic, or so it had seemed. And it was Sokolov's fault, in Ron's opinion. As much as he'd tried to ignore it, Ron had been very much aware that they had been making love in a bed under which a sedated prisoner was stashed away. It coloured the whole act, though he couldn't decide whether the danger of getting arrested, should they be discovered, or the fact that they were committing a crime was the main reason for the difference.

He sighed as he turned the water off. They were doing the right thing, even if it was breaking the law. Even Moody had told them that, sometimes, you needed to bend or break a few rules. He sighed again, towelling off. Moody probably hadn't meant kidnapping. Probably - the man had started in the seventies, after all, when Cowley had been in charge of CI5. That man and his top team, Bodie and Doyle, certainly had played fast and loose with the regulations. Probably with the law as well - but none of Moody's stories, or anyone's, had ever been more definite than rumours in that regard.

Hermione entered as he was about to use the blow-dryer. "Hey."

"Hey. Shower's free," he told her with a grin.

"I can see that," she replied.

It wasn't the only thing she was seeing - his towel was draped around his neck, not slung around his hips. But while her eyes certainly dropped down, she only messed his hair as she walked past him.

"Hey!"

"You hadn't combed it yet," she said with a giggle. Then she let her robe drop, and he swallowed his retort.

By the time she had finished her shower and dried her hair - which took far longer than his own mop of hair, given the volume of her mane - and stepped out of the bathroom, Ron was sitting in an armchair and studying the room service menu.

"It's kind of a waste that we are eating our last dinner here in our room and not in the restaurant," she commented.

"Can't be helped," he said. They couldn't leave the room unguarded as long as Sokolov was under the bed, and using a dose of Shrinking Solution to take him with them would be a pointless waste.

"I know." She smiled, a little ruefully.

Ah. He nodded. "I'll order candles for dinner as well," he said.

She looked confused for just a moment, then her eyes lit up, and she smiled.

* * *

Unfortunately, they had barely reached dessert during their candlelight dinner - the small table made for a very intimate and romantic set-up, in his opinion - when they were disturbed by someone knocking on the door.

"Mate, let us in," Ron heard Harry ask before he could tell them off.

He looked at Hermione. She frowned but then sighed. "We do need to talk and plan, I think."

He agreed, but that didn't mean he liked it. He still smiled when he opened the door - Ginny would only tease him if he complained about the interruption.

The others entered, Luna making a beeline for the dessert. "Oh, pudding!"

Well, skipping dessert wouldn't kill him, Ron reasoned. Not that Luna didn't deserve it, anyway. She was the only one of the group not in a couple, after all. Well, together with Sirius, but that was a little different.

"So, you didn't break the bed. Good. I half-expected to find our guest crushed under the remains of the frame!"

Ron rolled his eyes. Very different.

"Very funny," Hermione said in a flat tone.

"And very classy," Harry added.

Luna made a noise of agreement - her mouth was stuffed with cake. Ron didn't know with whom she agreed.

"I'm always classy," Sirius replied.

"Apart from when you're not," Ginny added as she pulled Harry towards the armchair in the room - after a glance at the bed.

Ron could take a hint and sat down on the bed, Hermione joining him. That left her seat to Sirius.

"So… any change to our plans?" Harry asked.

"None. At least not from us," Ron replied.

"Our guest is doing as well as can be expected, considering their circumstances," Hermione added. "There should be no problems during tomorrow's drive." She leaned a little against Ron. "I have some reservations about the transfer at the airport."

"Do you have an alternative solution?" Harry asked.

Ron didn't have to look at her to know Hermione was pursing her lips in response. She sounded as if she had to force out her answer. "No."

"Then we stick to the plan," Harry said.

"Yes!" Sirius said, clapping his hands. "Uncle Alphard would have loved it - he collected all sorts of morbid paraphernalia."

"I don't have any reservations about that part of the plan," Hermione explained. "But the timing will be very tricky."

Sirius shrugged. "I trust your mastery of the mystical arts to deal with such mundane trifles."

Hermione's frown was replaced by a glare aimed at the older man, but Sirius merely grinned in response.

* * *

**Flughafen Kloten, Zürich, Switzerland, August 23rd, 2005**

"As you can see, it's a work of art!" Sirius declared. "Have you seen the satin cushions inside? Embroidered! With gold threads! Best souvenir ever! I can't wait to use it!"

Ron managed not to grin at the glance the two customs officers exchanged upon hearing Sirius's claims. The embroidery was extremely garish.

"Mr Brown," the apparent leader of the two - Ron couldn't see a difference in rank between them - said, "this is a coffin."

"Why, yes, it is!" Sirius nodded with obvious enthusiasm. "A hand-crafted antique coffin! What a find, eh?"

"Are you a collector?"

"Indeed! Although not exclusively of coffins, of course, but anything that fits the Victorian fascination with the occult and morbid," Sirius replied. "My family was deeply into that sort of thing at the time."

Ron cleared his throat. That was getting a little too close to the truth - the Black family had been involved with several occult circles in the nineteenth century, after all. And using a fake name and identity might not be enough to keep a good analyst from making the connection. "So, can we proceed?" he asked. "We do have a flight to catch."

"Bah! They will wait - I am paying for the jet, after all!" Sirius chuckled.

Ron didn't have to completely fake his long-suffering expression when he looked at the customs officers. Sirius was overdoing it. As Hermione had feared when they had planned this - after a certain point, reverse psychology failed to work.

Fortunately, the two officers had more luggage to check and waved them on. "No, you can proceed," the leader said.

"Thank you! Have a nice day!"

They strode out of the room, Ron pushing the dolly with the coffin and their other luggage. It was quite heavy - heavy enough, actually, that the addition of a hundred and fifty pounds wouldn't be obvious.

Which also made it quite difficult to push and manoeuvre through a crowded airport, though. But he managed without steering it into anyone, and a few minutes later, they reached the lounge where the others were waiting.

"That went well!" Sirius said as they sat down on free seats and grabbed a drink.

Ron shook his head. "It could've gone better."

"What? I completely fooled them! Otherwise, they would have arrested us, wouldn't they?" Sirius nodded to his own words. "Quod erat demonstrandum."

Hermione sighed and checked her watch. "You cut it close."

"Someone really got into his role," Ron explained.

"Ah."

"Hey! That's called good acting! Method acting!" Sirius protested. "And it's good timing."

Ron didn't think that Sirius had kept the duration of the dose they had given Sokolov in mind. And he doubted that anyone else believed his claims. But it didn't matter. Things were still going according to plan.

"Well, let's see if they damaged your coffin," Hermione said, opening it and peering inside. "Did you leave a sock in here?"

"What? No."

Hermione bent forward and stuck her head under the closed part of the coffin's lid. "Ah, no, just a loose rag." She held it up and closed the coffin again, then rocked it a little.

About ten minutes later, she put her hand on the coffin and rocked it. Or tried to. "I think we should board the plane now."

That meant that the Shrinking Solution's effect had run out and Sokolov's actual size and weight had been restored. Ron nodded. "Yes, let's go."

The business jet Dumbledore had chartered for them lifted off almost on schedule, with their luggage, including the coffin, stored in the back.

And there was no chance that the plane's crew, no doubt hand-picked by Dumbledore, could possibly suspect that Hermione could shrink people and equipment.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 24th, 2005**

"That was quite a smooth operation," Dumbledore told them over lunch. "Kidnapping someone in a foreign country is a challenge even for the best in my former business. I'm impressed - especially by how you managed to smuggle Mr Sokolov out of the country through an airport."

Impressed - and curious, Ron was sure. "Thank you," he said. He didn't mention that they had been lucky that the bodyguards had bailed rather than called the police.

"It's all in the acting," Sirius added.

"Interesting," the old man replied. "How did you deal with the x-ray scanners?"

"We skipped them," Harry said.

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded. "You didn't use a technological solution to fool them?"

"No," Hermione said. "It was all done with sleight of hand - in a manner of speaking."

"I see." The former spymaster inclined his head again. "In any case, our new guest should be ready to answer a few questions after we finish our meal. He needed a little time to recover after being transported."

"That couldn't be helped," Ron replied. "We had to keep him sedated."

"I wasn't criticising your actions," Dumbledore told him.

Of course not. But Ron nodded as if he believed the old man.

"Will you be using your truth serum again, Dr Granger?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Sokolov is a crucial source of information, after all."

"While we cannot, at this point, exclude the possibility of Sokolov serving as a decoy, I agree."

"A decoy? Hidden so well?" Luna shook her head.

Ron agreed with her. That would've been insane. All their work, for nothing?

"My dear, I know of even more elaborate deceptions than this - which were successful, I'll have you know." Dumbledore smiled in his usual slightly condescending manner. "But we shall soon find out the truth, thanks to Dr Granger's assistance."

Ron certainly hoped so.

* * *

"Were you aware of the mission for which so many mercenaries were needed?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Did you know why someone wanted to kidnap Dr Granger?"

"No."

"And who told you to hire mercenaries to send to Britain?"

"Igor Kirikov."

Ron didn't recognise the name, and neither did Hermione - she wasn't a good enough liar to hide that, as he knew. But he noticed that Dumbledore was frowning, and made a note while Harry continued the interrogation.

"How did you know that we'd go after Berisha?"

"Kirikov told me."

"Did he tell you to warn Berisha?"

"Yes."

"Where does Kirkov live?"

"Russia."

"Do you know his address?"

"No."

"Do you know how to contact him?"

"Yes."

"How do you contact him?"

"I call him."

"What is the number?"

Sokolov rattled off a phone number.

"Where do you know him from?"

"He was my superior at the KGB."

Ah. No wonder Dumbledore had recognised the name. "Does he still work for the KGB?" Ron asked.

"No."

"Who does he work for?"

"Himself."

That was good news, in Ron's opinion. If Russia were after Hermione… On the other hand, he knew just how close certain 'businessmen' were to the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service.

And, as they quickly found out as Harry and Ron continued to question the drugged Sokolov, Kirikov was one of those businessmen.

* * *

An hour later, the Veritaserum stopped working, and Dumbledore's men carried Sokolov away. Presumably, they'd take him to the same location in which Berisha was currently being kept prisoner. Ron gathered his notes. A lot of the information they had gained wasn't related to Hermione, but it was still useful - Sokolov had worked with and for a lot of criminals, after all. And they had confirmed that the man hadn't had a dead man's switch.

Harry turned to Dumbledore as soon as the door closed behind Sokolov. "You recognised the name."

"Indeed, I did," the old man answered. "Igor Kirikov. An old… well, I wouldn't say colleague. We weren't quite on the same level - my time in the field had already ended when he started working for the KGB."

"Like Sokolov," Ron said.

"Yes. But Kirikov was higher-ranked. And knew more secrets. I don't doubt that he still has a lot of friends in the FIS." Dumbledore rubbed his beard. "Unfortunately, our information on him is a little out of date - something I intend to rectify at once, mind you." He tapped a few keys on the laptop on the table near him. "This is our most recent picture of him."

Hermione gasped.

"That's Igor Karkaroff!"

* * *

"_Is something wrong?" Viktor asked as they took a break from dancing. "You seem distracted." He was glancing at her friends, she noticed. Who were sitting with their dates, the Patil twins._

"_It's your headmaster," she told him. "He's been glaring at me ever since we opened the ball."_

"_Ah." Viktor nodded sharply. "He fears you are, how do you say, using your wiles on me to help your school." He chuckled. "I told him you were not that kind of girl, but… he is suspicious of everyone."_

_The nerve of the man! She hesitated a moment, then said: "With good reason. He was a Death Eater."_

"_Ah."_

"_It's a matter of public record," she went on as they walked towards the buffet for a drink. "He was put on trial in Britain after Voldemort had been defeated." Technically public, of course - the record had been buried in the Ministry archives. If not for Percy's help, they would never have been able to read it - he had denounced too many 'innocent victims of the Imperius Curse'. That it hadn't been sealed was a small miracle._

"_His past is known, but not spoken of, in Bulgaria," Viktor said. "Although he is not the only former dark wizard present, is he?"_

_Since the Dark Arts were still taught at Durmstrang, Hermione wasn't entirely certain whether Karkaroff was a _former _dark wizard. "You mean Professor Snape," she said. "Dumbledore vouched for him."_

"_Yes. And Dumbledore is friendly towards the Headmaster as well, isn't he?"_

_Hermione nodded. "He is, yes."_

_She didn't tell Viktor that Dumbledore behaved that way towards pretty much everyone - even people she knew he loathed, such as Lucius Malfoy._

_She wanted to enjoy the Yule Ball, after all._


	22. Chapter 22: The Next Step

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 22: The Next Step**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 24th, 2005**

"Igor Karkaroff?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes. The name is different, but they look exactly alike," Hermione replied. She was looking agitated.

"Malfoy had a different name as well," Ron pointed out.

"Malfoy has a different first name; this is a different last name," Harry retorted. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She nodded sharply. "I remember that man well - he spent a year at my school. He had issues with me dating one of his students."

"And he was Russian? And a teacher?" Dumbledore leaned forward. "Or was that a cover?"

"He had been involved in my Riddle's terrorist cell in the seventies but turned crown witness when the police arrested him. That earned him a much-reduced sentence," Hermione explained. "He later became the headmaster of a school in Eastern Europe and visited Britain during a school tournament meant to foster closer ties between the schools."

"Oh? Interesting. So he wasn't a spy, unlike Kirikov." The old man frowned. "Unless that was a cover."

"He wasn't a good spy, in any case," Hermione said with a snort. "He tried to cheat in the school tournament. Unsuccessfully. While accusing me of spying on his pupil to help my Harry win the tournament."

"Did he win?" Sirius asked with a grin.

Ron saw Hermione rolling her eyes "Yes, actually, he did win the tournament," she said while Harry glared at his godfather. "Not that it mattered - no one cared since there was an attack on the tournament which caused the death of a star student. That was the unofficial start of the war."

"I see. And do you know what happened to Karkaroff afterwards?" Dumbledore pushed his glasses up with one finger.

"He was killed. Probably by the men he had betrayed since it happened after they were broken out of prison." Hermione pursed her lips. "In theory, he could have managed to fake his death, but I doubt it - the men sent after him were not the sort to make such mistakes."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement, but Ron couldn't tell if the man actually believed it. "In any case, the biographies of both men are distinctly different," the old man said. "Kirikov wasn't as prominent and never was a teacher as far as we know. Although I can't exclude the possibility that he was operating in Britain during the Cold War, which would be a parallel to your Karkaroff, he wasn't arrested, much less tried."

"Another parallel is that he has no scruples and will betray his allies if it benefits him," Ron pointed out. "Sokolov assumed so, at least."

"He might've been mistaken," Dumbledore replied. "Although that's unlikely - he knew Kirikov very well, after all."

"And how well do you know Kirikov?" Harry asked. "Sokolov didn't even know where the man lived." Which would have made tracking the man down a lot easier.

"My files' coverage of his work for the KGB is quite passable, although there are missing periods - nobody is perfect, after all. Although our intelligence on his activities in the last decade is quite spotty. I expect, however, that this will soon be rectified." Dumbledore's polite smile turned a little toothy. "While I have no doubt that Kirikov has amassed a fortune following his retirement from the FIS, I can safely say that it won't even come close to the resources that the Phoenix Gruppe can bring to bear on this task."

"He or one of his old comrades could have a mole in your organisation," Harry replied.

Ron nodded. Sokolov hadn't known of a mole - he hadn't known Yaxley, either - but Kirikov wouldn't have told him about his spies. Not if he was, as Sokolov had feared, willing to kill his former partners to protect himself.

"I'm well aware of that possibility and we've taken steps to counter that - or exploit it." The old man smiled again. "Gellert and I have some experience in this sort of game."

More than Ron and Harry had - Ron understood the message perfectly. If Luna were here, she'd certainly point out that for all their experience, they still hadn't found the suspected mole, but Ron didn't want to push the man's buttons like that. "So, we wait until you know more," he summed up.

"Precisely." Dumbledore tilted his head. "Although a little technical assistance from Dr Granger wouldn't go amiss if the situation calls for it."

If his men kidnapped a potential source of intelligence, in other words.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Hermione replied.

And now Dumbledore knew that they had an ample stock of truth serum.

"It would be best if we had a few doses on hand - unless you prefer to administer it yourself to every suspect we need to interrogate. But it's far easier to transport a vial across Europe without drawing attention than a famous woman - or a kidnapped thug." Dumbledore smiled winningly.

Ron doubted that the old man would limit its use to suspects related to Kirikov. And he'd have a little more to analyse.

And Hermione knew it as well. She glanced at Ron, and he smiled back with a subtle nod. They didn't have any choice - unless Hermione wanted to interrupt her work at any time, for days, and travel in disguise, Dumbledore would get his 'truth serum'. They could only hope that should he use it on Berisha, he would dismiss the claims of having been shrunken as hallucinations from a shocked, drugged and seriously wounded man.

"Of course," Hermione agreed with a thin smile.

"Splendid!"

* * *

"What did Sokolov say?" Luna asked as soon as they returned from the interrogation to the lounge in their quarters.

Ginny made a point of slowly looking up from her magazine, but Ron had no doubt that she was as curious as Luna. His sister merely didn't like that she had been excluded from the interrogation. But she was a tennis player, not a trained interrogator - or a witch.

"Turns out the man behind the attacks on us is Igor Kirikov - the counterpart of Igor Karkaroff," Harry told them.

"The terrorist turned teacher?" Ginny asked,

"Headmaster," Hermione corrected her. "Though I think he was a teacher as well. We don't know yet whether he changed his name, or if that's a quirk like Malfoy. But Kirikov is Karkaroff's counterpart. I'm certain of it."

"He's an ex-KGB agent," Ron said. "Now he's a 'businessman' with contacts to organised crime and the FIS. The Foreign Intelligence Service of the Russian Federation."

"I didn't think a former KGB spy would be working for the International Ski Federation," Ginny replied with a glare as Luna giggled.

Ron wouldn't consider that improbable - the sports business offered a lot of opportunities for corruption, graft and money laundering. But it wasn't worth arguing the point - it would only rile up Ginny.

"Oh! So... when will we go and get him?" Luna asked.

"We don't know his location," Harry replied. "Dumbledore's men are working on it."

"And we can only wait and hope they won't bungle it," Sirius said.

"They didn't with Sokolov," Luna pointed out.

"But they did with Berisha," Sirius retorted. "And I think Kirikov will be more dangerous."

"That is a given," Hermione said. "He's got more experience, more power and more contacts than Berisha."

"And he'll have the better home-field advantage - if he's holed up in Russia," Harry pointed out.

Which he probably was, Ron knew. "He'll have the authorities looking out for him. We won't be able to simply enter as tourists using fake IDs. Not as a group. And we'll need far better disguises."

"Dumbledore must be feeling nostalgic," Harry said. "Working against the Russians again, just like old times."

Ron wasn't the only one who chuckled at that. "We can only hope that he hasn't lost his touch," he said. Although Dumbledore wouldn't let Hermione go on such a mission if he suspected he had been fooled, it wasn't impossible that he would be, anyway - the Russians were good at the spy game, as far as Ron knew.

"So, are there more counterparts with different names?" Luna asked.

"I checked for different first names after I heard about Malfoy," Hermione said. "But now I have to look through several files of suspected allies or contacts of Kirikov to check if I recognise their pictures."

Well, at least that meant that they'd get more information as well. This exchange wouldn't be completely one-sided, then.

Though, Ron felt, that wasn't much of a consolation.

* * *

She was looking at the ruins again, Ron noticed. And she had that wistful expression on her face that he wasn't certain he liked. It made her look beautiful - but it also made him remember that she wanted, more than anything else, to return to her own world. Where her Ron lived - probably - and everyone was a wizard.

It was still closer to the full moon than the new moon, so the ruins were visible despite the lateness of their 'evening stroll'. And they were far enough away from the laboratory that the odds of someone having planted listening devices here were low.

"You'll get home," he told her, forcing himself to smile as she turned to look at him.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Just being honest," he said. "Want to check out the ruins?"

She drew a deep breath, biting her lower lip. "It's not Hogwarts." After a moment, she added: "It's too small. Hogwarts is a huge castle and covers most of this side of the lake."

"And there's no laboratory."

She chuckled. "No, there isn't. But there's a small pier near that spot, where the first-years arrive by boat."

"Ah." She had mentioned that before. And a giant squid. "Must have been nice to have a lake so close. Our school - mine and Harry's - didn't have that. If we wanted to swim, we had to go to the dinky pool in town."

"We didn't often swim, either," she said.

Probably because of all the monsters in the lake, Ron thought. And wizards might not need to learn to swim. He stepped closer to her and smiled when he felt her arm wrap around his waist. "Say… is there any chance that Kirikov might be Karkaroff? Transported to this world by accident?" And presumed dead, like Hermione probably was.

She shook her head. "No. The odds of such a thing happening twice, and linked to the same world… No. And if he were, I doubt that he could have taken over Kirikov's identity and fooled the Russian intelligence services. Or wanted to. And he would have moved against me long ago. He would have known about me, after all, after my arrival."

He nodded. That was good reasoning. "But we still don't know why he is coming after you."

"Dumbledore thinks he knows I'm not the original Hermione. That seems to be the most plausible explanation. As to how he knows..." She shrugged.

"We'll find out," Ron told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

He had some suspicions. And he knew Harry, and probably Hermione, shared them.

There weren't many reasons why someone would kidnap a child, after all. And fewer reasons why a former KGB agent would know about it, or be involved in it.

And all of them were awful.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, August 28th, 2005**

Halfway through 'The Vor Game', Ron closed the book and rubbed the bridge of his nose with a sigh. As much as he loved the series, by this point he knew the plot by heart. Which tended to ruin the experience of re-reading the novel.

"I thought it was supposed to be a great novel. Wasn't that what you told me?"

He looked up to see Hermione grinning at him from behind her desk. "It is. I've just read it a little too often, so all the details come back easily once I start re-reading it." He snorted. "Besides, you loved 'Shards of Honour' and 'Barrayar'."

"Guilty as charged," she admitted, her grin growing wider.

He huffed as he shook his head. "Anyway, you can have it now," he told her, holding the novel up.

"Finally!" She stood and walked over towards his 'guard spot' - to which they had added a bench and a small shelf of books over the last few days. After Dumbledore's men had finally started to deliver decent novels. Now if only they'd be able to track down new great novels… or, the holy grail, great fantasy and science fiction movies for the lounge.

She didn't quite rip the book out of his hand, but only because he let go at once, or so he thought. "I still wonder how you found the time to read three books in three days," he said, scooting over a little on the small bench so she'd be able to sit down as well.

She didn't sit down, though. She hesitated. But before he could ask what was wrong, she sat down in his lap, almost unbalancing him as he had to quickly adjust to her weight on his thighs. "Most of what I'm doing now is running simulations and then testing them. Which means that I'm often waiting for the computer to finish processing with nothing else to do," she explained.

"Really?" He didn't quite believe her. She was usually good at finding more tasks to keep busy. Driven.

"Yes, really," she replied with a frown that turned into a pout. "I've done all the note-taking I need for this batch of simulations."

"So you could've joined us in the woods?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

She blushed a little but didn't reply. Instead, she flipped the novel around and read the text on the back of the cover.

"Aha!" he said, grinning now.

"I'm still doing the runs," she defended herself. "But the breaks between experiments aren't that long. Not long enough that I could take part in your exercises. Long enough to read a few chapters, at most."

"Too bad," he replied. "The exercises are useful." And could be crucial, he thought.

She shrugged. "My work here's more important." Glancing at him, she added: "And, apparently, the exercises aren't important enough for you to take part in them instead of reading, either."

That was definitely a smirk there. He snorted in response. "Harry's running them through an obstacle course. He doesn't need me for that." And, he left unsaid but understood, the course had taken some time to prepare, long enough that anyone could have placed surveillance around it.

"Ah." She nodded. "Well, I appreciate the company."

"Even after I surrendered the next book in the series?" he asked, smiling to show that he wasn't serious.

"Yes," she said, rather emphatically. "It does get a little lonely in the lab."

Of course it would feel lonely without anyone who knew the truth behind her experiments. Without anyone who knew the truth about her. Who could be trusted. And she had spent years doing that. Living like that.

He didn't say anything, though - he just wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her a little closer.

And wished that he didn't have to let go of her ever again.

Of course, not even ten seconds later, her computer beeped.

"Oh!" She jumped up. "The calculations are done! Time to check them experimentally!"

Before he could say anything, she was at her desk, typing up a storm.

He wandered over - she didn't seem to notice - and peered at the screen, then shook his head - he couldn't make heads or tails of the data there.

"...and then reduce the intensity here… yes… and tweak this gauge a little…" he heard her mumble while she took notes for her log. "Battery's charged, the cage's ready… Here we go!"

She pushed a key, and Ron heard the now familiar whine as the generators started up. A moment later, the quantum mirror began to blink as small sparks were produced on its surface - as usual.

Wait! No, there were no sparks on the cage's surface - something had appeared in the centre of the cage. In mid-air. Something that shone brightly.

Bloody hell!

But the light winked out a moment later, leaving the cage empty and powered down. "Well…" he started to say.

"Oh my God! A proto-reaction!" Hermione interrupted him with a gasp, her eyes wide open. "And it lasted long enough to be visible!" She started typing like a maniac, windows popping open on her screens only to be closed after a second or two - barely long enough to catch the rows of numbers or graphs on display. "This… Oh, I didn't expect that. Not so soon. Or so… Oh! Of course!"

Ron opened his mouth to ask what exactly had happened but refrained from disturbing her and settled for leaning against the wall and simply watching her work. And smiled when she managed to leave a smudge on her cheek when she distractedly scratched herself with a pen.

After about a quarter of an hour, she took a deep breath and leaned back from the keyboard.

"Done?" he asked.

"Done? No, of course not. I just started the next batch of simulations!" she exclaimed, turning towards him. And pouted when she saw him grin at her. "And you knew that."

"Guilty as charged," he replied.

She snorted at that, then beamed at him. "But this is a breakthrough. A proto-reaction formed! And it was almost stable, too!"

"A proto-reaction?" He tilted his head.

"It's the first step to a dimensional rift. Unguided and uncontrolled - apart from requiring a constant supply of power - but it proves that my theory is accurate!" She jumped up and hugged him. "Now all that's left is to control the reaction, amplify it by a few orders of magnitude, aim and focus it and synchronise it so it connects to my home dimension!"

"And that's all that's left?" he asked.

"Well, yes." She pulled back and nodded at him. "It won't be easy, of course, and will require a lot of work, but it's like…" She scrunched her nose. "It's a breakthrough. Not literally - no dimension was breached - but scientifically."

"Ah." But theoretical breakthroughs usually took years to be turned into workable technologies. "And how long will it take to achieve that?"

She blinked, then her eyes unfocused while she mumbled something under her breath that he didn't catch. "Well, still a few months at the earliest. That's an estimate - this sort of progress cannot be easily predicted, after all."

"Unless you have a talent for Divination?"

She snorted at that.

He smiled at her, though as happy he was for her success, a part of him didn't feel like cheering. A few more months, perhaps even less, and she would return to her home world. And to the other Ron.

* * *

"...so you can open mini-portals now?" Luna asked as she refilled her plate at dinner.

"No. I can now build a tool that, with some refinement, will allow me to open a portal," Hermione replied.

"Oh." Luna looked disappointed. "Being able to open portals would have made kidnapping Kirikov an easy task. Just open a portal behind him, grab him and close it before anyone notices anything!"

"That's not how it works - the portal opens to another dimension, not to another location." Hermione shook her head, her messy ponytail swinging. "It needs to be anchored on both ends, too, and that isn't possible anywhere but at specific locations."

"And this is one such location," Ginny said.

"Yes. The dimensions are 'closer' here, in a way." She shrugged as if she didn't have any idea why this was the case. But she had told Ron her hypothesis - that a constant, powerful presence of magic in one location would affect the entire area, even 'leaking' towards parallel dimensions. It sounded plausible to him - but he had no idea about magic; he was no wizard, after all. And at the end of the day, all that mattered was that the portal would open.

"Well, how large will the portal be?" Sirius asked.

"Not large enough to drive a tank through," Hermione said in a flat voice.

"What about a tiny tank?" Sirius beamed at her and moved his hands slowly together as if they were compressing something.

Ron couldn't tell if the other man was serious or merely joking. But Hermione was annoyed anyway. And Ron wasn't happy either - Sirius wasn't as subtle as he thought he was. Ron doubted that Dumbledore would simply dismiss this as a silly joke.

"Well, if the portal is too small then we can send my drone through," Luna proposed. "As a scout."

Hermione shook her head. "I fear that it wouldn't work well on the other side. Too much interference."

"Aw."

"But we can take it with us when we're scouting around," Ron said. That would allow them to take a look at an area before risking themselves.

"Oh, good! I can't wait to see the other world!"

Ah. She was afraid of being left behind, Ron realised.

"We'll need to determine whether it's safe, first, though," Hermione told her.

"It's better to lose a drone than a friend," Luna replied.

Well, she was correct, Ron had to admit. But he loathed the idea of Luna or Ginny risking their lives. No matter how hypocritical that was.

Yet he didn't think they'd be able to keep the others from going with them. And leaving them with Dumbledore and Grindelwald might not be much safer, anyway.

Which reminded him that the closer Hermione came to finishing her work, the closer they were to having explain magic to Dumbledore. He really wasn't looking forward to that.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, September 19th, 2005**

"Where's the cake?" Ron heard Ginny ask loudly as he entered the lounge.

"It's still in the oven. Mum's recipe calls for sixty-five minutes. It's still twenty short."

"What? Luna, dinner starts in ten minutes!"

"Yes. But it'll be at least half an hour after that before we get to eat pudding!"

"And what if it burns while we eat dinner?"

"The cooks won't let that happen. And I set the alarm clock on the oven - and my own alarm clock, in case the one on the oven malfunctions." Luna nodded several times in that familiar manner of hers. "So don't fret - everything will be fine."

Ginny huffed but didn't contest the point. Instead, she turned to glare at Ron. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to keep her busy until everything's ready for our surprise!"

"She's taking a shower," he told her. Well, she'd probably finished by now. "And she'll be here on time. You know her." Hermione was never tardy if she could help it.

"Or she'll be here too early!" Ginny complained. "Come on! Don't stand around being useless! Help Harry set the table!"

Sometimes, it was very obvious that Ginny was Mum's daughter. Not that Ron would say so - that would only start an argument. As would trying to explain that Hermione wouldn't be too early, either - it wasn't as if she wouldn't guess that they were doing this. Not after Ginny's birthday party. He was grinning as he joined Harry at the table, which was now covered with a white tablecloth.

His friend smiled wryly at him and handed him the cutlery. "Just go along with her," he whispered.

Ron snorted. As if he needed to be told that - he had grown up with her, after all. He knew how to handle her - usually, at least. Ginny had been going a little stir-crazy lately, what with being practically confined to the laboratory and lake for weeks. She had leapt into organising Hermione's birthday party with a drive that would have impressed - and pleased - Mum.

"Sirius! The decorations are crooked!"

"They're supposed to be that way!"

"No, they aren't!"

"Yes, they are!"

And she hadn't been the only one. Luna hadn't offered to bake a cake using her mother's recipe - she had stated that she'd be doing so, and in a tone that brooked no objection.

And Sirius… Ron sighed as he took a stack of small plates to distribute. Sirius would have probably done worse than Luna and Ginny if he hadn't had his poker nights with the staff, but he wasn't exactly doing well.

"And I still say we should have gotten a miniature tank as a gag gift."

Case in point. Ron snorted. Hermione would've probably managed to use accidental magic to turn Sirius into a tank if he had done this - everyone was heartily sick of Sirius's plans for a tank.

Now, a flying invisible sports car, on the other hand…

Meanwhile, Ginny had finished fixing the crooked decorations and turned back to inspect the table. She rearranged a few teaspoons, but, apparently, didn't find anything else that needed fixing.

And then Ron heard the door opening in the hallway behind him, and Ginny gasped. "Alright, everyone - line up here!"

"And get ready to sing!" Luna said.

"No, the singing comes right before the cake!" Ginny snapped.

Another of Mum's rules, Ron thought with a smile.

Luna was pouting but lined up with the rest of them, and she was beaming again when Hermione entered the lounge. "Happy birthday, Hermione!" everyone announced.

Hermione's smile wavered between pleased and almost shy before settling on happy. "Thank you, everyone."

"I made a cake - well, I'm still making it; it's in the oven - but we let the cooks cook the meal," Luna told her. "I hope that's OK."

"We picked the menu, though," Ginny explained. "Your favourites, according to Ron," she added with a glance at him.

"And we got you gifts, of course!" Sirius said, pointing at the small side table in the corner.

"Thank you!" Hermione repeated herself. She sniffled once, even, before she started hugging everyone.

Ron wondered, briefly, if she'd have started crying if she hadn't expected something like this - she had been under a lot of stress herself, mostly self-inflicted in his opinion, as she'd struggled to refine her experiments.

He snorted as she embraced him. This wasn't the time to dwell on her work. This was the time to celebrate her birthday and to forget their problems for a while.

* * *

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Hermione, happy birthday to you!"

Luna sang more loudly than everyone else put together, but Ron had expected that. And since she was carrying the cake into the lounge, it evened out. Sort of.

"Here! My mum's secret recipe - Lovegood Cake!" Luna announced as she set the cake down on the table, its candles now the only source of light in the room. "Now make a wish and blow out all the candles!"

"Alright," Hermione replied, stepping a little closer to the cake. Ron saw her checking her hair for any stray strands that might have escaped her ponytail before she bent down. After a moment's hesitation, she inhaled and then blew at the candles. She managed to extinguish the last candle with a slight effort, then straightened and smiled at everyone. "Thank you."

"What did you wish for?" Ginny asked.

Before Hermione could answer, though, Luna piped up: "Cut the cake! It's time for pudding!"

Laughing, Hermione grabbed the knife Luna was waving in her direction and started to cut the cake, then blinked at the sight of vanilla and caramel pouring out as soon as she pulled a slice away.

"My counterpart never made a Lovegood cake for you?" Luna asked, pouting.

"Actually, no," Hermione said. "I think they had different family traditions."

"Oh." Luna frowned, then perked up. "So this is new for you! Dig in! I'll cut the rest!"

Dividing the cake involved not as much cutting as spooning up the mixed sauces, but, again, Ron had expected that.

"Mhhh." Hermione closed her eyes, savouring the taste. "This is excellent!"

"Yes!" Luna agreed, barely intelligibly since she had stuffed her mouth with cake.

"And enough calories to keep a soldier fed for a day," Sirius added with a slightly nasty grin.

Ginny scoffed at him. "You just want to scare us off from having seconds so there's more left for you."

"What? Perish the thought! I was merely complimenting the cake!"

No one believed him, of course. Ron shook his head at the transparent excuse. And smiled at the levity it spawned - all of them needed a good laugh.

"So… what did you wish for?" he asked Hermione as Sirius and Ginny dragged Harry into their silly argument and Luna sneaked another slice for herself.

"That all of my friends were and stayed safe," she replied.

Oh? He cocked his head at her. "Not speedy success in your work?"

She shook her head. "No. I know I'll succeed sooner or later."

But she didn't know how her friends in her home dimension were doing. Or how the hunt for Kirikov would end. He nodded. "So… is wishing while blowing out candles on a cake a special tradition in your Britain as well?"

"Just a custom. Nothing special," she replied after a moment.

So her wish wouldn't magically come true. Too bad - not that he had really expected such a thing. On the other hand, Hermione's home world, or at least Wizarding Britain, had some really odd parts. If owls delivered letters and snakes had a magical language, why couldn't cakes be magical as well? He laughed at his own foolish thoughts.

"What's so funny?" she asked with a slight frown.

Mentioning magic wouldn't be a good idea so he said: "I was thinking about weaponising cakes."

She chuckled at that. "Like rock cakes that are as hard as rocks, thrown at the enemy?"

"Or giant cakes that drop barrels of sticky caramel sauce on the enemy and get them stuck," he added before he saw that she seemed to be sad. Had he made her remember another tragedy? "Hey! It's your birthday! No moping around!"

After a moment, she nodded, smiling - though it felt a little forced, still. "Do you know that this is the largest birthday party I've had in years?" she said.

That was sad to hear, even though he should have expected it - she hadn't wanted to make friends, after all. Not when she was planning to leave this world. So it had probably been just herself and the Grangers. Her counterpart's parents. Whom she planned to leave as well, once her work was done. Damn.

Once more, Luna and Sirius came to the rescue. "And now, the presents!" Sirius announced.

"Yes!" Luna replied, dashing out of the lounge again, towards her room. Half a minute later, she returned with her arms full of packages. She almost dropped one but managed to catch it between her chin and another package before she dumped the whole lot on the table. Ron saw Ginny pick up a package and wipe some caramel-chocolate mix off the underside, but the rest seemed to have avoided a sticky landing.

"Open them!" Luna demanded, beaming widely at Hermione.

Smiling, she stepped up and started unwrapping her presents - methodically and carefully, Ron noted; she didn't tear the wrapping paper off like Luna would have. Or most members of his family.

By chance, she opened Ron's present first. "Oh, Lord of the Rings, box set?"

"A classic," he told her.

She leaned over and kissed him. "Thank you!"

More books were unpacked - it wasn't as if anyone who knew her would think of buying anything else for Hermione.

Even Luna had bought her a book, although it was a wartime rationing recipe book. As Luna explained with a sad expression: "I didn't manage to find a book that involves cooking with MREs. This was the closest I discovered. Sorry."

"Oh, Luna…"

Hermione hugged her. "Thank you!"

Ron had just started collecting the wrapping paper that Hermione had dropped to hug Luna when someone knocked on the door. Without thinking, he moved between it and Hermione while Harry moved closer to the door - though not directly in front of it.

"Yes?" his friend called out, over Ginny's muttered: "It's a private party!"

"May I come in? I have news."

Dumbledore. And important news?

"Of course," Harry replied.

"Thank you," the old man said as he opened the door. "It's very gracious of you to receive me while you celebrate Dr Granger's birthday."

Ron almost snorted - they were his guests, not the other way around.

"Since you're here, would you like some cake?" Luna said.

"I'd love some," Dumbledore replied. "Thank you."

While Luna scraped together a slice - or something like it; the cake had suffered a little between Sirius's attempts to get another serving and Ginny's resolute defence of it - Ron moved the chairs a little to make room for their 'guest'.

"Oh… delicious!" Dumbledore beamed at Luna after his first taste. "Just the right amount of sweetness. A family recipe?"

"Yes." Luna didn't preen, of course, but she still looked pleased.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked impatient. Not that she would be as rude as to press Dumbledore for his news, though. Ron didn't think so.

But Ron was tempted to, as they waited while Dumbledore finished his slice of cake. Something the old man was aware of, Ron was sure.

"Ah…" The former spy beamed at them when he finally pushed the empty plate away. "Thank you for bearing with me, and for sharing this excellent cake. Gellert thinks I should cut back on the sugar, so dessert has become a rare occasion for us."

"No pudding?" Luna sounded horrified.

"Well…" The old man flashed a grin at them. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Ron snorted. As if Grindelwald wouldn't expect that.

Dumbledore sighed. "But enough wool-gathering, I think. I do have important news to tell you, after all."

"You've found Kirikov," Harry said.

"Acquaintances of mine have discovered a location that is thought to be one of his favourite homes, so to speak." The old man tilted his head. "And while I trust their work, one cannot, ever, be certain in this sort of business."

"But you're sure enough to tell us, and to send us there." Ron stared at Dumbledore, and the other man nodded.

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. "I consider the information actionable. I would have sent out agents based on less during my time in the employ of Her Majesty's Government."

"And where is this possible hideout of Kirikov's?" Sirius asked.

"In a small village on the shores of the Black Sea, east of the Crimean Peninsula."

"Oh, good. I haven't been in a landing operation since the Falklands," Sirius said, "but you never forget the essentials."

"I don't think we'll invade Russia," Harry said, which Dumbledore apparently found funny enough to chuckle at.

"It wouldn't be an invasion, of course. But I have to admit that insertion by sea might be a valid option in this case."

Seriously? Ron stared at the old man. He thought they'd swim to the shore, like commandos?

"Does that mean you have a submarine for us?" Luna asked.

"I'm afraid that as a civilian, I can't call on the Royal Navy any more," Dumbledore answered, "but I can arrange a yacht and scuba gear."

Ron shook his head and was about to comment when he noticed Hermione had grown tense and was staring at the wall. Oh - she didn't like diving, did she? Not since that wizard tournament, or so she had told him.

* * *

_She came to in the middle of the lake. No, she realised a moment later, when a harpoon bounced off of a Shield Charm near her, in the middle of a battle. Viktor's Shield Charm. "What's going on?" she yelled, drawing her wand. Or trying to - she wasn't wearing her robes, she realised with a shock. They had changed her clothes after sending her to sleep! She hadn't agreed to that!_

"_The merpeople haff gone crazy!" Viktor yelled back, his wand moving to recast a Shield Charm. _

_What? But… the merpeople were supposed to look after the champions and the hostages, to keep them safe! Dumbledore had arranged that! "This…" No. This was sabotage. Another attempt on Harry! And Ron!_

"_They're behind us," Viktor replied. With one arm around her, he couldn't swim fast._

_She must have yelled their names out loud. "We need to get out of the water!"_

"_I'm trying," Viktor replied, wand flashing as he sent a curse into the depths below them - where the merpeople were attacking, she realised._

_She needed a wand. How could they have taken her wand?_

_A wave suddenly rose in front of them, then crashed down on them. Hermione held on to Viktor's arm with all the strength she could muster. If she got separated from him, she'd be dead. Drowned or stabbed. She was helpless without her wand!_

_They broke the surface again, coughing and sputtering. Viktor cried out - he was hurt. A harpoon had hit his leg! He was bleeding. And more merpeople were coming at them - she could see their bodies moving in the depths._

_No. No._

_Suddenly, the merpeople broke off and disappeared. And she heard a screeching sound. Very similar to the sound from the golden egg Harry had won in the first task. Just… fainter. And from the water..._

_Oh. She turned her head and saw that Dumbledore was on a broom, a hundred yards behind them._

"_He must have used sound to drive them away," she said. The Headmaster spoke Mermish, so he was familiar with them._

"_As long as they stay gone until we are back on land," Viktor yelled, "I don't care how he did it."_

_But she wasn't really listening to him any more. There, near Dumbledore, were Harry and Ron. Safe._


	23. Chapter 23: The Insertion

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 23: The Insertion**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, September 19th, 2005**

"Scuba gear?" Sirius shook his head. "Who do you think we are, the Special Boat Service? Scuba-diving, at night, from the open sea to an unfamiliar shore? That's too dangerous."

"I wouldn't expect you to make the dive yourself - you'd only be using the gear while being towed by underwater sledges operated by experts," Dumbledore replied.

"I don't like diving," Hermione said. She looked very tense, and even Ron reaching out and squeezing her hand didn't seem to help.

"Oh?" Dumbledore looked at her.

"I had a very bad experience during school," she told him.

"Does that extend to swimming as well?"

"No."

"But using scuba gear is still too dangerous," Sirius cut in again. "A friend of mine was in the Special Boat Service, back when it was the Special Boat Squadron. We would need to spend weeks training for this."

"I had anticipated about a week of training, but I concede the point." Dumbledore smiled. "I fear I've been a little too optimistic in estimating your capabilities."

"We could do it," Harry said at once. "But it's not worth the risk of something going wrong."

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "Although I don't think that there are many alternatives. The former USSR remains, despite the end of the Cold War, a dangerous territory for clandestine operations. Following their internal troubles with separatists and terrorists, they have increased their domestic security, and I think we have to assume that Kirikov will have contacts among the security services in the area. I do not think a group of British tourists will escape attention. Certainly not should he be aware of Sokolov's disappearance."

"Sokolov was hiding from him," Hermione pointed out. "And his disappearance hasn't yet been noticed by the Swiss authorities."

"Indeed. But, by now, Sokolov's former bodyguards will have started looking for new employment - and some of them might even decide that selling their knowledge about their former employer's disappearance is worth the risk of contacting Kirikov. Short-sighted, but that is a common flaw of many in that business," Dumbledore explained.

"And we can't pass for locals," Ron said. Perhaps Americans, but they would still stick out.

"We could split up," Luna suggested. "Disguise ourselves as couples, for example, and travel separately."

"That wouldn't have fooled my old opponents in the KGB, and I doubt that their successors have lost their touch," Dumbledore replied. "And I don't think that Kirikov lacks contacts in the FSB, either - many of his former co-workers in the KGB will have risen through the ranks of that agency."

"Swell," Ron said. "So posing as tourists is too dangerous as well. What does that leave?"

"Insertion by air?" Luna asked.

Ron knew that she didn't mean parachuting out of a plane. He glanced at Hermione. She shook her head. "I don't think that that would work."

"Aw." Luna pouted. But the distance was too great for an RC helicopter.

"Even experienced parachutists are prone to accidents under such conditions," Dumbledore pointed out - not that anyone wanted to drop out of the sky.

"That leaves boats," Sirius said. "Zodiacs would be hard to see, nearly invisible under the right conditions - and much safer than scuba diving."

"Not entirely safe, though."

"Far safer than the alternatives." Sirius shrugged. "And easier to learn to use, too, in case you don't have expert boatmen on hand."

"Indeed," the old man conceded the point. "And my preliminary plans will only require slight adjustments."

Ron looked at Hermione again - she had been rather uncharacteristically silent during the discussion. And though she seemed to be recovering, she was still tenser than usual, too.

* * *

"So… are you alright with the plan?" he asked half an hour later after Dumbledore had left and the party had officially ended, with everyone heading to their rooms. Or Hermione's room, in Ron's case.

She sighed and sat down on her bed. Their bed, probably, by now. "Yes." He frowned, a little, and she added, sighing: "It's not the insertion by boat. I'm fine with boats. It's just… Berisha was bad. We almost died. This is going to be more dangerous. We're not going to have a support team on hand."

"We didn't have a support team in Switzerland, either."

"But we weren't facing a small army and corrupt authorities there," she retorted. "In Russia, we'll be completely on our own."

"Dumbledore will have people on a ship out at sea."

"They won't be able to intervene quickly, or in significant force," she said. "And he'll be on his guard. Even if he doesn't know about Sokolov's disappearance, he knows about Berisha."

"You're right," he conceded the point. "But we don't exactly have a choice, do we?"

"We could stay here until I finish my work," she said. "And with the resources from my home world, we could get to Kirikov without much danger."

Her wand. Possibly allies, too. "And what if your side lost the war?" he asked. They would have to deal with both the 'Death Eaters' and Kirikov's men, in that case. And Dumbledore might demand his reward before he supported them against Kirikov.

She pressed her lips together and didn't answer. Which was answer enough.

* * *

**Off Marina Dinevi, Bulgaria, September 21st, 2005**

Well, Dumbledore certainly hadn't skimped on this mission, Ron thought as he stepped out on to the deck of the yacht that the old spymaster had provided for them. She was large, fast and sported some of the latest equipment available on the market, as well as some additions that would be best kept hidden from any authorities. If Luna hadn't found out that this particular type of yacht hadn't been designed until the middle of the nineties, Ron would have thought that Dumbledore had taken a ship built for MI6 with him when he quit the service.

Almost as important as the secret gear on the ship was the fact that while she wasn't quite an ocean-going yacht, she'd handle the Black Sea just fine. Which was a good thing since they'd be making their way across that sea soon enough - once they had established their cover here in Bulgaria and finished their training for the mission.

Leaning against the railing and watching Bulgaria's coast in the distance, he sighed. He wasn't entirely on board with this mission.

"Something wrong?"

That was Harry coming towards him. Ron was obviously not paying enough attention to his surroundings since he hadn't noticed his friend before Harry had spoken up. He looked around.

"The others are below deck, getting ready for the trip to the port."

And his subtlety was lacking as well. Ron sighed again. "I'm just…" He shrugged. "I don't really like this mission. We're not ready for this."

"That's why we're training," Harry replied, looking around as well. "But I know what you mean."

Ron nodded. "Six against a small army, if things are as bad as with Berisha. Or worse." And two of the six had no business being here at all, in his opinion. "It's too dangerous."

"For us, or for the girls?" Harry asked.

"Don't let Ginny catch you calling her a 'girl'," Ron said.

"I won't." Harry chuckled. "Though she calls me 'boy' often enough."

"When she's mad at you."

Harry nodded. His friend hadn't forgotten about his question, though, Ron knew. Sighing once more, he said: "Ginny and Luna shouldn't be on this mission."

"Luna's the best amongst us at handling computers and electronics," Harry pointed out. "And she can pilot the drones."

Ron pressed his lips together. He knew that. But Luna was, for all her involvement in illegal activities such as hacking, still innocent in many ways. Especially when it came to violence. "And Ginny's a decent driver?"

Now it was Harry's turn to frown. "You know how she is."

"Too stubborn for her own good." And too stubborn for Harry. They had had this particular talk before.

"At least if she's driving, she won't be shooting," Harry said.

Ron nodded, even though that was a small consolation. The girls could still get shot at. "Well…" he began, but Harry cut him off.

"They're coming."

Ah. Ron nodded and forced himself to smile. It wouldn't do to start the evening on a low note.

Luna, unsurprisingly, was the first to step on deck, wearing a blue sundress and a wide smile. "Ah, there you are." She scrunched her nose as she looked Harry and Ron over. "Well, you look boring, but I guess that's acceptable. We are undercover, after all."

Ginny, following behind Luna, laughed as she went and hugged Harry. "Well, we know they aren't boring." She was wearing a tank top and jeans - both black, matching Harry's shirt and slacks, Ron noticed.

Hermione, on the other hand, who, together with Sirius, appeared on the top of the stairs behind them, wore capris and a blouse. They fit her well, in Ron's opinion. Mary Janes, too - sensible shoes in case they had to run. Ginny and Luna's sandals barely qualified, but at least they weren't wearing high heels.

He snorted - some of Ginny's stiletto heels might have threatened to puncture the zodiac that would be taking them to port.

"Well, let's go - I'm a mite hungry," Sirius said. "And we've got reservations at nine."

In the best restaurant in the Marina, of course. Even undercover, Sirius preferred to live in style. On the other hand, anyone who had the money to rent a yacht like this one wouldn't skimp on food during their vacation.

"Let's go!" Harry echoed his godfather.

They moved to the back, where the zodiac was gently swinging from its mount. Harry waved back the two crew members - Jack and Karl - who were about to lower it. "Let us do it," he told them. "It'll count as training."

"Of course, sir. Does that mean you won't require a pilot, either?"

"We'll pilot the zodiac ourselves, but we'll need one of you with us anyway, to keep an eye on it in port, Jack," Ron replied.

"As you wish." Jack nodded. He was smiling, and it seemed honest to Ron. The staff probably had been planning to stock up on a few perishables and snacks in port, he imagined, and that plan would have been ruined if the group had disembarked without one of them.

"Alright, let's do it like we trained: Slowly and carefully!" Harry ordered.

They tried. But while none of them fell in the water, it wasn't exactly a smooth operation. They would have to train some more, all of them. As Sirius was fond of saying, they weren't the Special Boat Service. Or the Royal Navy. At least for the actual mission, the crew could lower the zodiac for them, so they could focus on piloting the thing.

Which, currently, Ginny was doing. And not doing a bad job of it, Ron had to admit.

"Have you ever been to Bulgaria?" Ron asked Hermione a few minutes later, after they had made landfall in the port.

"Yes. When I was still at school."

"Oh?" He hadn't heard about that.

"Yes. I visited a friend here."

A friend? Bulgarian? "Oh. Your date at that ball? Viktor?" She had mentioned him, hadn't she?

"Yes. Viktor Krum."

"Viktor _Krum_? Liverpool's striker?" She hadn't mentioned his last name.

"Well, he's a striker here. Back home, he's a famous Seeker," she replied.

"Ah." Swell. She had dated the counterpart of one of the best-paid football players in the Premier League. Who was also a wizard.

At least this Krum didn't know her. And was unlikely to be in the Marina.

* * *

**Off the Bulgarian Coast, Black Sea, September 22nd, 2005**

"I think a landing at Kirikov's private beach isn't a good idea," Luna told them, nodding in a sage manner. "He's bound to have the entire area under surveillance." She pointed at a picture on the table. "It's a pity - it's the best spot on the coast there."

"So…" Sirius leaned forward, putting his drink down next to an enlarged aerial picture of the area. "...that leaves the coast east or west of his compound."

"East," Harry said. "Otherwise, we'll have to go through or around the village to the west to reach Kirikov's house."

"And the residents and tourists in the village might use the nearby beaches even at night," Ginny pointed out. "For beach parties or some midnight swimming."

"They might use the more secluded beaches to the east as well," Harry told her.

"It's possible, but not as likely. It's quite a distance from the village, and they'd have to go around Kirikov's villa," Ginny retorted.

The two stared at each other for a moment, then Harry sighed, conceding the point as Ginny grinned. "We'll have to check for witnesses before landing," he said.

"I can do that with a drone!" Luna replied. "Anyone around will show up on the thermographic cameras. Though if there are people on the beach, what do we do?"

It was a good question, of course. And it was a good planning session, too - Dumbledore had provided them with good intel about their target. Although the fact that they were doing this in the middle of the day, on the deck of the yacht, with everyone dressed for sunbathing and swimming, was more than a bit distracting, in Ron's opinion. Even Hermione was wearing a bikini - and Ron didn't completely believe her claims that it was to make them look like harmless tourists.

He shook his head and focused on the question. "We'll have to find an alternate landing site in that case." There was no way to deal with witnesses. Nothing that was both morally acceptable and safe enough, at least. "There are a number of possible locations," he pointed out. "Though we'll have to examine them in detail, first." Which meant having Dumbledore provide them with more intel.

"And we might have to cover Kirikov's private beach, too," Sirius added. "If only to prevent him from escaping in a speedboat or something."

That was true. But there weren't enough of them to both cover the beach and enter the villa. "We'll need help," Ron said.

"The yacht can't get close enough to the shore to cut off an escape attempt," Sirius replied. "Not without being detected and revealed as a threat. They'll have to use a second zodiac."

"Those aren't very fast, though," Ginny pointed out.

That wouldn't really matter, as long as the zodiac was fast enough to get within weapons range before the hypothetical boat managed to leave the area. As long as they didn't kill Kirikov by mistake, they could do whatever was needed to stop him.

"I don't see any boats in the compound," Hermione said, tapping two pictures showing the entire beach from the air, "but I wouldn't put it past Kirikov to hide them to surprise an attacker."

"Of course he'd do that!" Luna piped up. "We might even plan for that and fake an attack on the villa so he'll flee over water."

Ron shook his head. "I don't think we can bring enough firepower to bear to convince him that he can't hold out until the police arrive."

"He's not a normal criminal - he's got the authorities in his pocket," Harry added. "But we could search for any hidden boats once we are in the compound before we sneak into his house."

"And sabotage them!" Ginny said. "Leave him stranded and defenceless on the open sea!"

"That seems a little optimistic," Hermione told her. "I think it'd be best not to make overly complicated plans."

"Keep it simple, stupid," Sirius agreed. "Yes, I think so as well. Disable his escape vehicles, then sneak in and grab him."

"We could take one of his boats to get away," Luna suggested.

"They'll probably have a locator beacon installed somewhere," Ron told her.

She pouted. "And we won't have enough time to find and deal with it?"

"I don't think so," Harry said.

"Plan for the worst," Hermione added.

"That would be the Russian military holding a combined arms exercise in the region," Sirius said. "Do we have torpedoes and surface-to-air missiles? Enough of them to beat the Russians?"

It was a joke, but Hermione had to answer the question anyway: "I don't think we can withstand the Russian military no matter how many missiles we might have available. But we don't have to fight them, anyway - we can simply wait until they're finished."

"Right," Ron agreed - even though he didn't think anyone apart from, possibly, Luna, would deal well with having to wait a few weeks without being able to do anything about Kirikov. Or work on Hermione's project. And posing as tourists for so long without drawing attention might also be difficult.

"Shall we go for a swim?" Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

He smiled. "That's a good idea."

Taking a swim with Hermione would be better than making plans without sufficient information. It wasn't as if he could do anything about the Russian military, anyway.

* * *

**Off Yalta, Ukraine, Black Sea, September 25th, 2005**

Hands on the railing, Ron stared at the city in front of them as the yacht entered the harbour - and all he could think was that this was just a half-way stopover. They had to refuel and resupply, of course. Also, they had to pretend to be tourists so that they would have the correct electronic and paper trail in case the Ukrainians or Russians decided to investigate, so there were several good reasons to make a stop here. And Yalta was a good spot for sightseeing as well, with quite an interesting history, too - thanks to Hermione, he was very much aware of the city's past.

But he didn't really care about all of that. He wanted to push on and get Kirikov. Catch the man behind the attacks in London so that his and Hermione's families would be safe again.

Or, he amended his thoughts with a wince, find out for whom Kirikov was working - although the more he learned about the man, the less likely it seemed that Kirikov was working for someone else. Being a subordinate just didn't seem to fit the man, not with his background.

Unless, and this was the real 'worst case' scenario, Kirikov was working for Vladimir Putin. The current president of Russia had been a Colonel in the KGB, after all. If anyone knew how to control Kirikov, it would be him.

Well, Dumbledore must have considered that possibility as well. Probably felt downright nostalgic, too, Ron thought with a snort.

"Smile, Ron!"

He turned his head and looked at Luna, who was leaning against the railing on his right side. "We don't have to play our roles, yet," he replied.

She frowned at him. "You shouldn't smile because it's a role, but because it's nice."

That made him smile, and she beamed at him. "See?"

"I don't, actually," he told her.

"I don't mean it literally." She shook her head. "Everyone's too serious."

"Well, our situation is serious," he said. They were going to risk their lives attacking a Russian mobster in his home, after all.

"That's a reason to smile and laugh." She turned around, putting her back to the railing. "Besides, you've got good reasons to be happy."

He knew what she meant. Or whom. "I know."

"Good!" Luna nodded sharply and patted him on the shoulder. "You don't want her to think you're not happy when you're together."

That cut a little too close. Ron pressed his lips together and ignored how Luna fell silent for a moment, blinking as she realised what she'd reminded him of - and now herself, too.

"Yes." He nodded. If Hermione thought that, she'd surely decide to return to her home world for good.

"I can't wait to meet my counterpart," Luna went on, craning her neck to look up at the sky. "Imagine talking to a different you. With a different life."

"Yeah," Ron lied. He didn't want to meet his counterpart. Who was a wizard and Hermione's first love, if you didn't count Krum, which Ron didn't. "It'll be interesting," he added. But painful, too.

* * *

**West of Novorossiysk, Black Sea, September 27th, 2005**

"We've got the latest pictures of the target area!" Luna announced as she started to clear the table on the afterdeck, interrupting breakfast.

Ron reacted quickly and managed to save his and Hermione's cups from being put down on the deck. "Here," he said, handing Hermione's cup over to her.

"Thank you." She took a sip - no, a swallow, he noticed. He downed his own. It was time to plan.

"As you can see," Luna started to explain, "we had a drone do a few flyovers at night, with the engine turned off so the people on the ground wouldn't hear the noise. Now, the compound is occupied, and judging by the number of guards we see patrolling at night, it's likely that Kirikov is present."

"That's great," Ron said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"Indeed!" Luna beamed at him.

Sirius agreed with her. "It would have been a pity if we had come all this way, just to find an empty house."

"I'm more concerned about the actual number of guards," Ron explained. "That will make sneaking into the area very difficult." Especially for half-trained people like the girls.

"We can use the tiny helicopter if we need to," Luna said.

"Our 'special fuel' is running a little low, though," Hermione pointed out.

Ginny shrugged. "Hoarding it won't help."

Ron agreed with a nod. Trying to save potions for 'an emergency' usually meant you finished the game with half your inventory full of magic potions you'd never use. "If Kirikov's the one behind the attacks, then snatching him means stopping the attacks. Hermione, you'll be able to restock soon enough in that case."

She didn't look convinced, but Ron hadn't expected her to - not when he knew she carried a huge quantity of supplies around in her beaded bag of holding. Most of which she would probably never use.

"Well, let's look for a landing site, first," Sirius cut in. "If we can't make it to the coast, it's all moot anyway. Where's the tidal chart?"

Luna handed him the chart, and Sirius started studying it. Ron wasn't well versed in such nautical matters and focused on the aerial pictures of the compound again.

And he didn't like what he saw. Not at all.

"They've cleared the area around the house," he said.

"Hm?" Hermione leaned over.

"In the pictures Dumbledore showed us in Britain, there were trees and bushes around the house. They've been removed," he explained.

Harry cocked his head, then nodded. "Yes, you can still see traces in the soil where they pulled the trees out."

"Yes. They must've wanted clear lines of fire." Ron frowned. "Probably with motion-detectors linked to floodlights, South African style."

"Oh, that could be nasty," Luna chimed in. "We might have to go in by air, then."

"More importantly," Ron pointed out, "we now know that Kirikov is expecting an attack."

"Unless this is a decoy," Harry said. "He fortifies this compound, but is hiding somewhere else."

"That is a possibility," Ron admitted. "On the other hand, if this is supposed to be a trap, wouldn't he want it to look less defended?" Of course, the man could be trying for a double bluff, but Ron didn't think so. On the other hand, a triple bluff…

"And would he risk hiding somewhere with - presumably - a small number of bodyguards? That's what Sokolov did, and we got him," Harry pointed out.

"He could have a lot of bodyguards in his real hideout as well," Ginny said.

"That would make it more difficult to remain inconspicuous," Ron retorted. "And he doesn't have unlimited manpower - he had to hire mercenaries for the last attack in Britain. If he had enough men on his payroll to guard two houses, he wouldn't have had to do that."

"But his bodyguards could have pointed directly to him," Harry pointed out. "So he wouldn't have wanted to risk them."

That was true. "Right." Ron conceded the point with a nod. "But there's also the matter of trust. The more guards he hires, the bigger the risk that one of them will betray him. As Sokolov proved, loyalty is hard to come by in this business."

"We can't rule out this being a decoy or a trap, though," Harry insisted. "If Kirikov is supported by the Russian government, or even just the FIS, all bets are off."

"What? Do you honestly think that the Russian government would authorise the attacks in London?" Ginny gasped.

"If they knew the truth about Hermione's work, yes," Ron told her. "But if they knew the truth, and if they were involved, I don't think that they'd have bungled the whole thing."

"The FIS isn't perfect," Harry said. "Even Mossad has made mistakes in critical operations."

"Yes, but messing up three times?" Ron shook his head. "That doesn't look like the work of an intelligence agency like the FIS. Either they would have succeeded, or stopped trying earlier."

Hermione, who had been uncharacteristically silent, Ron noted, nodded. "No offence to you, but I don't think you could have protected me against them if they were involved."

"And we wouldn't have heard about their inquiries in advance, either," Ron pointed out. "They wouldn't have used local 'talent', but their own sources."

"Yes," Luna nodded several times. "If an oppressive police state like Russia had been involved, they wouldn't have escalated slowly, but brought the full might of their secret service to bear from the start!"

"So, we probably don't have to deal with the FIS or the FSB," Harry summed up. "Just a small private army, mostly veterans of Afghanistan and the Chechen War and former KGB spies."

Luna nodded. "Exactly. And I don't think that he has too many former spies among his guards since he probably can't trust them not to try to take over."

Which was a small consolation, in Ron's opinion. But it was better than the worst case scenario.

Marginally.

He went back to studying the aerial pictures. They had a raid to plan.

* * *

**West of Novorossiysk, Black Sea, September 28th, 2005**

"Careful, the sea's not as calm as we'd like," Jack said as Ron gripped the ladder leading down to the zodiac, where Karl was already waiting.

Ron nodded, ignoring the slight reproach he heard in the man's voice. Yes, the sea was rougher than was ideal, but between the weather forecast and the new moon, they only had a limited window of opportunity for the mission. Kind of like D-Day, he thought with a chuckle as he started to climb down.

Halfway down, the yacht suddenly rolled, and he was swung away from the hull. Gasping, he barely managed to bring his legs up to brace himself before the movement reversed and he was slammed against the ship. He hit his hand, too, but fortunately didn't lose his grip.

Might've been easier to rappel down, he thought as he continued his descent, a trifle more quickly now - he was secured by a line, after all. But that would have been more embarrassing, too.

Karl grabbed his legs as soon as he got close and pulled him into the bucking zodiac. "Scheissidee bei diesem Wetter!" the man cursed as he released the safety line from Ron's harness.

Ron winced, but there was nothing he could say in their defence. So he sat down and waited for the rest of the group to make their descent. And hoped they didn't hurt themselves while they were at it.

Ginny quickly climbed down the ladder and, despite being swung around like he had been, she dropped into the zodiac before Karl could grab her. She didn't even fall down. Ron didn't have to look at her to know she was grinning, too.

Luna and Hermione, though, were lowered into the zodiac hanging from the safety line without letting them use the ladder. Ron carefully didn't make a comment, just pulled Hermione in next to him - the sea was growing worse, and a particularly tall wave splashed the entire zodiac just as they took their seats.

Sirius followed, taking the ladder, but bungling it on the bottom half. Karl pulled him in despite his claims that he could finish himself.

Then came the crate of supplies Dumbledore had provided - at least the stuff they hadn't sneaked into Hermione's beaded bag yet - before Harry brought up the rear. Ron's friend got lucky and didn't have to deal with the yacht suddenly rolling, so he was mostly dry when he reached the boat.

That didn't last long, of course. Karl turned the zodiac away from the yacht and towards the coast, barely visible in the distance, despite the lights from the village, and everyone was drenched within minutes.

Well, they had dressed for that, mostly - they were wearing neoprene suits under their harnesses. Not the most inconspicuous outfits, but then, if you landed on a foreign shore at night in a black zodiac, odds are even a tourist disguise wouldn't fool the authorities.

They took about half an hour to reach the shore - or rather, until they were close enough to signal the yacht to do another flyover with the drone, to check for witnesses at their first choice of landing site.

Several waves splashed everyone and left about five inches of water inside the boat while they waited, despite the small aft pump working steadily. But as long as Karl didn't look worried, Ron wasn't overly worried either - the German was the one who had to return to the yacht with the boat, after all.

"It's clear!" Luna announced, taping the radio bud in her ear.

"Go! Go!" Sirius snapped. "Let's get on dry land before we start to grow gills!"

Ron chuckled, and Hermione huffed as Karl steered the zodiac towards the shore, with the engine at a low setting to keep the noise down. A few minutes later, they reached the beach, and Ron jumped out of the boat, then turned to help Hermione and the others through the surf while Harry and Sirius moved ahead.

"We're invading Russia in autumn," he mumbled, then chuckled at the absurd thought before he had to focus on not stumbling and dropping the supply crate Karl shoved at him. "Viel Glück!" the man said, then put the engine into reverse and slowly pulled back from the beach.

Ron gritted his teeth and carried the crate up the beach. So much effort for a deception!

Harry helped him halfway to the treeline - no, it was more of a bushline - past the sand, where the others were waiting. "Let's get out of these wet clothes!" he whispered as they dropped the crate behind the tallest bush.

Ten minutes later, they were all reasonably dry and wearing camo clothes. Hermione was pushing the last suit into her beaded bag of holding. That left the crate.

They were supposed to bury it nearby according to the plan Dumbledore's men were privy to, but it was easier to tear it apart and stuff the pieces into the bag as well. And more satisfying, too, after struggling with the thing from the surf up the beach.

"I've wiped our tracks!" Luna announced as they finished, pointing back at the beach with a broken-off branch in hand.

Ron checked with a glance - in their limited light, it looked like she had done a thorough job. Certainly good enough that it wouldn't be obvious come daylight. "Alright," he said, "let's move!"

The night wouldn't last forever, and, come morning, they needed to be under cover.

* * *

**West of Novorossiysk, Russia, September 29th, 2005**

MREs for breakfast. Ron glanced at his, then at Hermione. She was smirking at him. "See? They come in handy."

He snorted. "These are extraordinary circumstances."

"For which I was prepared," she retorted.

"Just admit she was right," Ginny said, leaning over to peer at his meal. "What did you get?"

Ron pulled his ration away from her. "Ask Hermione for another if you don't like yours," he told her.

"I'm planning to," she replied with a huff. "I just want to know what they look like when open. I'm not going to steal your breakfast - we're not six any more."

"You were six; I was seven," Ron corrected her.

She shook her head and turned away to inspect Luna's meal. Presumably, she had already checked Harry's ration and deemed it less appetising than her own.

Ron snorted as he started to prepare his meal.

Hermione joined him, her own bag already heating up. She made a point of looking around, then at the mouth of the cave in which they were hiding, where Sirius was serving as a lookout. "I still can't believe this cave isn't visited regularly," she said.

Ron shrugged. "We didn't find any trace of people in here." No debris, no signs of a fire, nothing.

"A cave like this should attract teenagers," Ginny said. "It's an ideal spot to hide from their parents to make out," she added with a glance towards Harry.

Of course. Ron shook his head at her antics. She was correct, though. However, they were quite a distance from the village, so it wasn't really close to a settlement - not counting Kirikov's compound. "Perhaps Kirikov scared them off?"

Hermione pressed her lips together before saying: "That would indicate that he regularly has his men patrol this area."

"Perhaps the cave is haunted?" Luna speculated.

"I doubt it," Hermione retorted. "We should have seen signs of that."

"Well, it's still the best hiding place, but perhaps we should consider moving to an alternative spot," Ron said.

"If there are patrols, then that won't really reduce the risk of being discovered," Harry pointed out.

He was correct, of course. Ron still didn't like it. If something seemed too good to be true, odds were, it was.

* * *

They hadn't seen any patrols in the area, but they left the cave in the early afternoon, anyway - they needed to move to a spot from which they could observe Kirikov's compound. Preferably during the day, so they didn't miss anything - even night vision gear only went so far when it came to details. And Ron preferred to move during the day; the guards would be using night vision gear as well, and the group wasn't properly trained in hiding at night from that. They knew the theory, but they simply hadn't had enough time to prepare for it in Scotland.

Trying to escape notice during the day, however, was something for which the girls had trained. Some more than others, of course. He glanced ahead. Ginny and Harry were on point, somewhere.. There! He caught a glimpse of one of them moving, but couldn't tell who it was - both wore the same camouflage fatigues, after all, and Ginny's hair was hidden beneath a cap just as Harry's was.

"Why did you stop?"

He glanced over his shoulder. Hermione had stopped a few yards behind him, running a hand over her forehead - it was still quite hot here - accidentally smearing the camouflage face paint on the back of her hand.

"I wanted to check on Harry and Ginny," he replied.

"Ah."

Luna appeared behind her. "Are we there yet?" she asked, then giggled.

Ron snorted. She had been hanging out with Sirius a little too much.

"No," Hermione replied.

"Aw." Luna pouted, and Hermione pursed her lips.

"Still no traces of any patrols?" she asked.

"None," Ron told her. At least Harry and Ginny hadn't found anything.

"That is weird."

"It's not as if Kirikov owns the entire area, and sending out patrols means he would be spreading out his forces and drawing attention," he pointed out. Kirikov might have the local authorities in his pocket, but even Russia cared enough about keeping up appearances to make running your own patrols unfeasible. Probably.

Hermione huffed. "That's sloppy, though. His compound isn't that big - his guards won't be able to retreat very far in the face of an attack."

"I don't think he's preparing to repel an actual invasion," Ron said with a grin, which quickly faded. "And the smaller area will make it harder to sneak inside."

"We've got magic on our side, though," Luna said.

"And a schedule to keep," Sirius, who had finally arrived, told them. "Keep moving. You can rest later."

Sometimes, Sirius was a little too much the officer.

But they got moving, Ron leading Luna and Hermione through the worst of the terrain. Between Luna's training and Hermione's experience, they managed well enough, but they were the weakest among their group when it came to such things.

Their other talents made up for it, of course.

They still took an hour until they had finally made it up the last ridge separating them from Kirikov's villa. A ridge that reminded Ron a little too much of the one on which they had almost become spider-food in Kosovo. But they made it, and the bushes would provide decent cover to set up an observation post, as Sirius called it. Drones and cameras were fine, but nothing beat direct observation, in Ron's opinion.

He crawled the last few yards upwards and carefully avoided disturbing any of the foliage until he could finally study the area through his binoculars.

And he still didn't like what he was seeing. Even at first glance, it was obvious that the compound had been fortified. Clear lanes of fire, no cover for attackers, reinforced guard posts - Ron wouldn't even dismiss the possibility of land mines after looking at the remains of the lawn.

This was either a bunker or a trap, in his opinion. Perhaps even both.

* * *

"_Is everyone ready?"_

"_Yes," Ron replied at once._

_She wet her lips with her tongue and tightly gripped her wand before she answered. "Yes."_

_She caught Harry glancing at her, and frowned. She was ready. And she knew that this had to be done. To protect those who couldn't fight back. Everyone was doing their part, after all, and it wasn't as if they had anything better to do while they waited for the latest news about the Ministry's defences._

"_Do it," she snapped._

_Harry nodded and walked into the small clearing below them. Once he was in the centre, he cleared his throat, then said: "Voldemort."_

_A moment later, he apparated to a spot between her and Ron, forming a triangle - or a half-circle._

_Seconds passed. She clenched her teeth. Shouldn't the Snatchers have arrived already? Or had the other ambushes and attacks by the Order convinced them to stop?_

_Suddenly, markers appeared floating in the air. Ah - Voldemort's helpers had grown more cautious. Disillusionment Charms, and Silencing Charms as well - she hadn't heard the typical sound of someone arriving via Apparition._

_But she and her friends had prepared for that - the Human-presence-revealing Charm let them know exactly where their enemies were._

_The clearing blew up, struck by Harry's Blasting Curse. The markers were thrown away, some of them fading as the still invisible Snatchers died. But some survived._

_Until Ron's and her curses hit the area._

"_Accio wands!" Harry yelled, summoning the dead Snatcher's wands - second and third wands were always useful - they could never have enough caches with supplies._

_And Hermione fought to keep her breakfast down and tried very hard not to think about what her curses had just done. Or look at the cratered area._

_But those Snatchers wouldn't murder anyone ever again._


	24. Chapter 24: The Miscalculation

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 24: The Miscalculation**

**West of Novorossiysk, Russia, September 29th, 2005**

"Alright," Ron said, his eyes still on the compound below him. "That's about thirty yards of open ground between the wall and the buildings."

"And we don't know which building Kirikov is staying in," Harry added.

"Well, he won't be hiding in the guest house, will he?" Ginny said. "And we can exclude the garage as well."

"We cannot exclude the guest house," Hermione replied. "He might count on us doing that."

"The guest house is a bit apart from the others," Ron pointed out. You had to walk about fifteen yards on a roofed path to reach the main house. "Less defensible, more isolated. He's probably got his guards quartered there - the additional ones, in any case." He didn't think Kirikov had so many guards present every time he was here. He would have built a bigger guest house - or barracks - in that case, in Ron's opinion.

"He's a Russian oligarch; people like him don't let their guards have better quarters than their own," Sirius said.

"He's a former KGB agent," Harry retorted. "He might expect us to think that."

"Exactly. But if he's got a mole in Phoenix Gruppe, he'll expect Dumbledore to anticipate that," Sirius replied. "And he'll be staying in the main building since it has the best defences."

"We could observe the house for a few days - see if we can spot him," Luna suggested.

"We can't stay hidden indefinitely. The longer we take, the greater the risk of being discovered," Harry said.

"We can't rush in either," Hermione retorted.

But, apparently, they could have an argument while observing Kirikov's home. Ron chuckled at his own thoughts. "In any case," he pointed out, "we need to find a way to reach the building. I think they've placed mines or other traps under the lawn."

"Or what's left of it," Luna said. "But that won't bother my helicopter."

Ron slowly shook his head. "But whatever he has on the roof to deter people rappelling down from a helicopter might," he told her. Kirikov must have planned for a direct assault that dropped attackers directly on top of him.

"I don't see anything… wait." Luna inched forward a little, and Ron put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from exposing herself. "The roof cover… looks like a second cover. Probably pressure triggers beneath it. But the helicopter won't trigger them, or any birds landing on the roof would do so as well."

"But we would trigger them, once we regain our normal size," Ron pointed out. "And infiltrating while we're shrunk isn't advisable. A single cat could kill us all."

"Well, if he's got mines under the lawn, at least he won't have dogs," Hermione replied. "But I concur: We shouldn't plan to move far on the ground so long as even spiders pose a lethal threat."

Ron shuddered at the memory.

"But that means we still need a way to enter the house," Luna said. "Unless… we could do what we did in Switzerland: Shink ourselves and go disable the pressure sensors on the roof, then land on it! Or wait until we regain our normal size."

"I think the area between the roof and the cover won't be exactly safe for two-inch high people," Hermione retorted. "And we would need to cover a lot of ground, relatively, to disable all the sensors. Kirikov won't have skimped on security."

That was true.

"If we can time it correctly, we could drop on to the ground rather than the roof," Sirius said. "Skip the minefields, go directly to the door. Or, in this case, the terrace."

"He'll have defences there as well," Ron pointed out. "Perhaps claymore-type mines." Some of the flower pots looked a little suspicious.

"And the duration of the Shrinking Solution cannot be predicted too precisely," Hermione added. "The greater the dose, the greater the variation."

"We could go through the sewers," Luna suggested. "Sneak through whatever barriers there are while tiny, and wait until we grow again inside the house, then strike!"

"This far from the village, there'll be a cesspit rather than a sewer," Ginny said. "And he won't want to have his waste pollute his own beach."

"Poo," Luna commented.

"Exactly," Ginny replied, and both of them giggled.

Ron sighed. It looked like their only choice was a direct attack. They could clear the mines, probably - a few well-placed explosives should do the job, Bangalore torpedo-style. But then they'd have to fight the dozens of guards alerted by the blast.

And that wouldn't go well. Although… He blinked, then looked more closely at the garage. Especially its doors.

"I have an idea," he said.

* * *

"I can drop you right on top of the goal." Luna frowned at him. "I did it before, too!"

"Yes," Ron agreed as he checked his gear. The sun was setting, so it was time to set out. "But we can't count on Kirikov being unprepared for something like that. He won't expect shrunken people dropping from a toy helicopter, but after Berisha, he might expect a toy helicopter to fly into his compound. And he is certainly aware of drones."

"He didn't do anything about our drone recon," Luna retorted.

"It was flying too high above the villa," Ron pointed out. "But the helicopter would need to fly at a much lower altitude. And you'd have to get far too close to the villa to pilot it."

"Not with the improvements the helicopter's received!" Luna protested.

"It's still too short-ranged," Ron replied. Kirikov's guards couldn't cover every ridge overlooking his home, but he'd keep those in range of small arms covered. And even after Dumbledore's men improved it, the helicopter was no drone and had a shorter range. And was vulnerable to jamming.

Not to mention that Ron really didn't want Luna to be that close.

She frowned, then pouted at him. "Then I should come with you. You'll need a computer expert."

He shook his head. "Look, we've been over this - you have an important task already."

She scoffed, sounding quite unlike her usual self, and glared at him, though she didn't object any further.

For now, at least. He smiled at her, which made her pout again and turn away.

Sighing, he finished his gear check. It was a little unfair that he'd have to carry so much material himself, what with Hermione's beaded bag of holding being available, but that couldn't be helped - he couldn't count on having access to her bag at every moment.

Speaking of… He smiled as he saw her walking towards him. She was already dressed in dark grey fatigues - including a kevlar vest - but hadn't yet applied camouflage paint to her face. Which made hugging her and placing a quick kiss on her lips much more enjoyable.

Yet, she sighed when he pulled away. "Are you having second thoughts?" he asked.

"No," she said. "Well, in a way. We'll have to walk about fifteen miles. Relatively, at least. Through dangerous terrain."

"Yes." It couldn't be helped - they couldn't get any closer to the compound without being spotted.

"I'll have to drink a potion afterwards, to be able to keep up," she said.

"Is that dangerous?"

"Not if you don't overdo it," she told him. "Still… once its effect ends, I'll crash, hard."

"Ah." She hadn't mentioned that before.

"It'll last for hours," she added as if she had read his mind. "By the time it runs out, we'll be done with the mission."

Or dead. Or worse. He didn't like it. It felt too rushed. And even if it was his own plan, he still had some misgivings. But he nodded anyway. "So, let's go see if Harry and Sirius are ready."

* * *

"You know, if we had a miniature tank, we could be riding in it, instead of walking," Sirius said.

Ron rolled his eyes - Hermione sighed loudly - as he picked his way around a patch of grass that blocked his way. He stayed off the road, though - he didn't want to risk exposing himself.

"_If_ you'd managed to rig a control system we could have used…" Harry replied.

"And all the models of toy tanks that could handle this terrain would have been a little too large," Ron pointed out. "Someone might have noticed it."

Sirius grunted. "It would also be safer. Owl-proof."

Ron flinched. Hearing Hermione talk about how owls hunted had been sobering. He looked at the night sky, knowing he wouldn't hear an owl in time. "We're a little small to be their prey."

"Not for young or small owls," Sirius said.

"That's why we're not on the road," Harry replied. And, Ron knew, why they weren't walking in a standard patrol order, spaced out. They didn't have to worry about people with firearms hiding in the jungle, but animals trying to prey on them. They needed to stick together to be able to help each other.

Ron gritted his teeth. Using a toy tank as transport - even if they had managed to rig one up so they could drive it without needing Luna or Ginny to remotely control it - was still more dangerous than walking, shrunk, along the road leading to Kirikov's villa. But right now, he felt far too exposed to worry about human guards. And, as in Kosovo, under-armed. Though he was carrying a G3 now, which, even shrunk, should be enough to deal with most small predators, it wouldn't help much with a fox or owl.

They crested a small hill - well, for their size - and Ron spotted the gate to the compound in the distance. Halfway there. "I think we should take a rest," he said, after a glance at Hermione. Even without a rifle to carry, she was struggling.

"I can go on!" she protested immediately.

"A break will do us all some good," he told her.

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "I'm not as young as I was."

"That's true for all of us," Harry said. "Every day."

"You know what I mean," Sirius shot back.

"You're growing old, yes," Harry said. Grinning, Ron knew without having to look.

"Something mother never expected of me," Sirius said.

"She never expected you to grow up," Harry corrected him. "And you haven't, have you?"

Ron chuckled at the back and forth as he sat down next to Hermione. "We're making good time," he told her. "If all goes well, we'll be at the villa just before sunrise." When all of the guards would be tired.

She nodded and then drank some water from her bottle. He followed her example. It wasn't as hot any more as it had been in the summer, but marching was still thirsty work.

They spent the rest of the break leaning against each other and listening to Sirius and Harry argue.

Then they continued their trek. They still had to cover half the original distance - seven to eight 'miles'. And then, past the gate, half a mile to the garage. And the clock was ticking - the Shrinking Solution wouldn't last forever. By Ron's calculations, they were still on schedule - if one included the safety margins on which Hermione had insisted.

But they couldn't pick up the pace - not when she was already struggling to keep up. He glanced at her, but she noticed and, clenching her teeth, raised her chin and started to walk faster.

Foolish woman. She'd burn out more quickly that way. On the other hand, she might just be stubborn enough to push herself all the way to their goal. Even if it killed her.

Damn.

After, by his estimate, two more 'miles', everyone had fallen silent. Not even Sirius was complaining about the indignity of walking as a tank commander any more and was instead focused on walking.

With Hermione in worse shape than the older man, it fell to Harry and Ron to keep an eye out for threats. At least by sticking close to the road, they didn't have to re-enact the Burma campaign. The terrain was more like a savannah - which was marginally better. Although, seen through their night vision goggles and them being shrunk, the area looked alien. Not of this world.

But even in the savannah, there were prides of lions hunting. Or, in this case, foxes, smaller mammals, lizards and insects. And branches the size of giant logs on the road's surface.

Ron blinked. That wasn't a branch. That was…

"Snake!" Harry hissed from the front.

There was a giant snake lying on the road. What was it doing there? At night?

Ron blinked. Damn. Of course - it had been soaking up the heat from the road's surface. That allowed it to be more agile during the night. Or something.

Harry had fallen back. "We need to detour. That monster could swallow all of us whole in a single bite."

"Well, that's how snakes eat…" Hermione said, but Ron could see that she was shaking. "But that thing is larger - relatively - than a Basilisk!"

"A Basilisk? The thing your Harry killed with a sword as a kid?" Sirius asked. He was already backing away.

"Yes," Hermione said.

Ron moved in front of her. The snake didn't look like it'd even notice a sword - at least one shrunk to their current size - striking its scales. Nor a few bullets from his G3, to be honest. "We should have taken a Panzerfaust with us," he muttered. "No matter its weight."

"Don't panic," Harry said. "We'll simply take a wide detour. It's resting."

As if the monster had heard Harry - weren't snakes deaf? - it suddenly moved, its head rising and its forked tongue slipping out of its mouth.

Tasting, no, smelling the air. And the wind was behind them. Damn. "Run!" Ron yelled, whirling around. Hermione was still in the process of turning when he reached her, so he grabbed her arm and dragged her with him.

"It's coming!" Harry yelled behind them. Shots followed.

Ron pushed Hermione between two rocks - stones - at the top of the ditch next to the road and knelt down, taking aim. Hell, that thing was fast! Harry and Sirius were sliding down the ditch, but the snake would be on top of them in a few seconds.

Ron cursed and fired, aiming at the thing's head. Its eyes. Or tongue. Or whatever was soft and vulnerable next to all those scales. Rapid aimed fire. But his bullets didn't seem to hurt the monster - it was still chasing Harry and Sirius.

He flipped the selector switch and fired a long burst at the snake. Weirdly, it was far easier to control the gun than, in his experience, it should have been. Not that he was complaining - he hosed the side of the snake's head down, finally hitting one of its eyes, and the snake reared up.

"Fire in the hole!"

Something flew towards the snake. Ron threw himself back, over Hermione. A second later, the grenade went off.

He jumped up, almost stepping on Hermione, and raised his rifle again. The snake was swinging its head around but didn't seem to be hurt. Not much, at least. Ron emptied his magazine in another burst, reloaded and fired again, but to no effect - other than drawing the monster's attention.

"We'll have to use white phosphorus," Sirius yelled. "Burn it!"

But that would draw attention. Probably start a fire, too - and at night, the guards wouldn't miss that.

But it beat being eaten by a damned snake of gargantuan size. Ron lowered his rifle and grabbed one of the WP grenades. "I'll lure it over to me!" he yelled. "And then I'll burn it." It was too far away for a decent throw - and they didn't have many of the grenades, not until they could access Hermione's bag again, at least.

"No!" Hermione yelled behind him. "That's too dangerous!"

"We have to," he retorted, already moving on to the road's surface, exposing himself. "Come on, you stupid snake!" he yelled.

The snake, once more, seemed to hear him since it whirled and shot towards him. Almost… He gripped the grenade.

"Ron! Down!" Harry yelled. "Down!"

Without thinking, Ron dropped and rolled to the side, between two stones on the road, before he realised that he had just gone to ground in front of a giant snake.

He was dead.

But before the snake reached him, something passed right over him - he could feel the air pressure change as it flew - and hit the snake.

"Move!" Harry yelled. "While they're fighting!"

Ron scrambled up, blinking as he realised that a huge owl had attacked the snake. And was ripping it apart. Or giving it its best try.

That could've been him.

Bloody hell!

He ran.

Everyone ran. They didn't stop running for about half a mile, weaving around knots of grass and the occasional larger rock, until Hermione stumbled. Ron, running behind her, failed to catch her and she fell. He helped her up, but her legs were wobbling, and she was panting. "Harry!" he yelled. "We're far enough."

His friend looked back, then stopped after a glance at Hermione. "Alright. Let's take cover behind that rock there."

Sirius almost collapsed as well after reaching the rock - he leaned against it and slid down to the ground, struggling to breathe as he pushed his goggles up on his forehead. "Bloody damned snake."

"Scarier than a spider," Ron agreed as he helped Hermione sit down, then joined her on the ground.

Hermione's response was unintelligible - she was still gulping down air - but she probably agreed as well.

"And yet, without the snake, the owl might have attacked us," Harry pointed out.

"Swell. Now I have two sources for my nightmares," Ron said.

"Next time, we'll take a tank."

Well, that was a predictable comment from Sirius. Ron still chuckled. They were alive. And even unhurt. But they had been lucky. And they wouldn't be lucky forever. Even with weapons, it was just too dangerous to travel outside when shrunk to this size.

"Let's hope…" Hermione finally managed to say, "... that there aren't more of those snakes in the area." She took another deep breath. "Or more owls."

Damn.

"We need to move," Harry said. "The clock's ticking."

"In a minute," Ron replied, nodding towards Hermione. She wasn't yet in any condition to go on.

"I can take a potion," she said.

"Let's wait with that," Ron told her. It would take them a few more hours to reach their destination.

She was probably glaring at him - it was hard to tell, with their goggles - but, after a moment, she slowly nodded. "Let's go."

They weren't as fast as before - the sprint had exhausted Hermione, and Sirius didn't look as chipper as he tried to sound, either - but they were still more or less on schedule. If they could keep up this pace.

And if no other monsters attacked them. Ron clenched his teeth at the thought - he should have found another way to close the distance. Perhaps if they had used parachutes and the drone from the yacht… but they wouldn't have been able to hide that from Dumbledore's men. And they couldn't have used Luna's helicopter.

They pressed on, following the road - though they stuck to the tall grass on one side. Ron would rather deal with a spider in the grass than dodging a hunting owl.

They met a large bug - about the size of a boar relative to them - on the way, but it ignored them. No other monsters, fortunately. Nothing that posed a threat, at least, before they reached the gate to Kirikov's compound.

Ron checked his watch. Still on schedule - barely. And that was including Hermione's safety margins. "We'll need to cut across the lawn," he said. The road was too exposed, for his taste. A guard watching it might spot them.

"Yes," Harry agreed.

"But half of it is mud," Hermione said. "That'll be hard to move through."

"Half of it isn't," Sirius pointed out.

"Your soldiers must have loved your comments," she told him, and Ron knew she was rolling her eyes behind the goggles.

Sirius laughed. "They did."

"Let's go," Harry said, already ducking under the gate, followed by Sirius.

"Well, if this were my house, I'd fire the gardener," Sirius said as Ron, bringing up the rear, passed under the gate himself.

He was commenting on the pitiful state of the lawn, Ron guessed - patches of mud alternated with patches of grass. You could easily see where the trees and bushes had been removed. Obviously, Kirikov cared more for security than aesthetics.

A sound stance, in Ron's opinion.

They started the last leg of their trek - about half a mile across the lawn, to the garage. And they had made good time - more or less; the Shrinking Solution's effect wouldn't fade before they were safely inside the garage. Though finding and disabling the expected camera inside might mean they cut it a little close.

"We were right," Harry said, interrupting Ron's thoughts. He was pointing ahead, at a muddy patch. Where Ron could see a sliver of metal.

A mine. "He won't have placed just one mine," Harry said.

"No," Ron agreed. "And he won't have stuck to hiding them in the mud, either."

"We're far too small and light to trigger a mine," Hermione said.

"But what if they can be triggered remotely?" Ron retorted.

Well, in a way they were counting on that.

Ron snorted as they continued towards the garage. He still felt queasy, knowing that he was likely walking over mines the size of, well, a tank. On the other hand, mines meant there wouldn't be any dogs or cats.

He vastly preferred feeling a little queasy to being swallowed whole by a monster the size of a bus.

When they reached the garage, the gap between the ground and the garage door turned out to be a little narrower than Ron had expected - though still wide enough for them to squeeze through. With some effort, and after dropping his webbing, in Ron's case.

"Told you to go easy on dessert," Harry joked on the other side.

Hermione, the traitor, giggled.

Ron rolled his eyes, not that anyone could see it. "Very funny," he said. It wasn't his fault that he was slightly more solidly built than Harry.

"Sure, sure." Sirius snorted. "Now let's find whatever security camera is around before we are discovered."

"We still have…" Hermione trailed off. "About twenty minutes before the Shrinking Solution's minimum duration is reached." That didn't mean that the effect would fade right then, of course - that could vary, and significantly, given the dose they had used.

Still, they had no time to waste if they wanted to play it safe. Ron quickly slipped back into his webbing and started looking around. The garage was large enough to house half a dozen cars, and, currently, two SUVs, a limousine, a sports car and a pickup truck were parked inside.

"Here," Harry announced, pointing at the back wall.

"Is that the only one?" Sirius asked.

"I haven't seen any others," Harry said.

"I didn't see any, either," Ron added. The camera covered the garage door, the door leading to the main house and most of the garage itself. Still, he would have expected another camera covering this one. On the other hand, the more screens a guard had to watch, the easier it was for them to miss something.

"Well, disable the thing," Sirius said. "Before you grow too much to hide."

"We probably could stay out of sight by standing right beneath it," Harry pointed out. But he was already moving towards the camera.

Ron followed him. "That's one hell of a climb," he said. He couldn't see a lot of handholds.

"Do you want to switch?" Harry asked.

"No, thanks," Ron shot back, chuckling.

"Please get on with it," Hermione said, clearly not amused. Well, she wasn't the one who had to make that climb.

But they couldn't waste time. Harry pulled the modified launch grapnel hook out of his pouch and started setting it up on his M4.

"Remember, if you miss with the first shot, you'll need to use blanks for the second," Sirius told them.

Harry didn't bother answering and shot. The ceiling was, at their current size, almost beyond the range of the hook, but Ron's friend managed to make the shot - the hook hit a cable in the back near the camera, and got stuck.

They tested the line - it held both their weights combined. "Good shot," Ron commented.

"Thanks," Harry replied while he set up his climbing harness.

Then he started climbing and Ron secured him. Harry had to cover roughly seventy-five yards, straight up. Without being able to brace against the wall, Ron didn't think Harry would make it, and even so, his friend had to take breaks on the way.

But Harry reached the camera. Ron saw him pull out the thermite charge, place it and then rappel down so quickly, it was more of a controlled fall for most of the distance.

"You set it for one minute, didn't you?" Ron shook his head.

"We've got no time to lose." Harry disconnected the line from his harness and ran to the side. A moment later, the charge went off, quickly burning through the cables running to the camera - and through the grapnel hook.

Ron waited until the line had hit the ground, then hurried to gather it up before sprinting to hide with the others inside some spare tyres stacked by the back wall. If Kirikov ran a tight ship, guards would be checking on the garage at any moment.

And here they were! Both the door to the house as well as the garage door were pulled open and four men with assault rifles - Kalashnikovs - charged inside and quickly covered the entire garage. They were good - none of them even glanced at the camera until they had searched the garage for any intruders hiding inside, as Ron could see through one of the threaded holes in the wheel's hub.

They didn't bother checking inside the spare tyres, though. Of course not.

And, judging by the way they relaxed after an exchange in Russian, they dismissed the loss of the camera as a short-circuit or something similar. As Ron and his friends had counted on. At this time, close to sunrise, they were also unlikely to force a technician out of bed to immediately replace it.

Which meant Ron and his friends had the window of opportunity they would need to get to Kirikov. Once they had grown back to their natural size, of course. Which shouldn't take too much longer.

Or so Ron hoped. He didn't like waiting. Especially not waiting like this - close to their target, but unable to strike, and not knowing how long they'd have to wait until the potion had run its course for all of them.

The guards left the garage, showing much less discipline or focus than when they had entered. Another sign that their ruse had worked. And they turned off the lights.

Ron heard Hermione let out a breath of relief. "Did you doubt the plan?" he asked.

"They could've suspected some tampering or sabotage," she replied.

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "Russians are supposed to be paranoid, suspecting sabotage everywhere."

"You didn't mention that when we were planning this," Harry said.

The older man shrugged - Ron noticed as he turned his head to check on them. "Those were the old Russians. The communists. These are the new ones."

"Led by an old KGB agent," Ron pointed out.

"Common sense and orders start to fade, kind of, when it's four in the morning and no one's shooting at you," Sirius retorted.

Ron didn't share his rather cavalier attitude, but this wasn't the time to make an issue of it. Their plan had worked. Now it just needed to keep working.

"We should move behind the tyres," Hermione said. "The Shrinking Solution could stop working at any moment now."

Ron nodded. He'd prefer not to be inside a spare tyre when he suddenly grew to several times the size of said tyre. Hermione had been a little vague about the possible risks of that. "Yes. Let's move."

But before they could move, the door leading to the main house was opened again, and Ron saw two figures enter the garage. He froze, holding his breath. Had someone ordered the camera to be fixed right now?

The lights were turned on again, and he clenched his teeth. "Yaxley!" he hissed. So the traitor was still alive.

And Hermione gasped. "Greyback!"

Greyback? Oh, the werewolf! He didn't look like most werewolves that Ron had read about. He wore his hair long and in a ponytail, but it didn't look attractive, not with the man's receding hairline. And the beer gut didn't really make the bloke look attractive, either. But there was something about his eyes that Ron didn't like. And he was certainly built.

"You're not going to check the damage?" Greyback asked, chuckling.

"Do I look like an electrician?" Yaxley scoffed.

"I thought you were supposed to check for sabotage." The man's voice had a mocking undertone. "Wouldn't want to fail Kirikov for the last time, would you?" He chuckled at his own remark.

Yaxley glared at him. "You've got a big mouth for a scumbag who can be easily replaced by any other thug."

"Really?" Greyback sneered and nodded towards the damaged camera. "The lack of surveillance making you feel brave? Or mouthy? Or has the cabin fever finally got to you? The guards have a betting pool on when you'll crack." He chuckled once more. "At least I can go outside."

"That's because you're a nobody." Yaxley sneered at him. "Just a filthy murderer."

"Oh, acting all high and mighty, are we? Looking down on the _criminal_, huh?" Greyback shot back. "You're not a cop any more. Just another wanted _traitor_. Someone who had his own comrades killed!"

"At least I've got useful skills and knowledge," Yaxley snarled. "Unlike you."

"You know too much, you mean." Greyback shook his head and walked between the two closest cars. "And you're a prisoner. He's only keeping you alive until he's got the chit. As soon as you've outlived your usefulness, you're dead and feeding the fishes."

"You think you'll survive me?" Yaxley snorted.

The other man grinned widely. "Kirikov knows everything I know, so my knowledge is already useless. And as you pointed out, I lack unique skills. And yet, I'm still alive and well."

"The only reason you're still alive is that you claim that you 'forgot' where you hid the rest of the body." Yaxley leaned against the wall, and his scowl grew more pronounced. Greyback's taunting had to be getting to him. "Sooner or later, he'll 'help' you remember. Once he's got Granger in his hands, he won't care about any leverage you think you have on him."

"He's already started too much trouble to care about that - thanks to your failures!" But Greyback didn't look as confident as he tried to sound, in Ron's opinion.

"Keep telling yourself that," Yaxley replied. "I know his type. KGB. He'll tie up all the loose ends sooner or later. And he'll enjoy it."

"As long as you're sooner and I'm later…" Greyback bared his teeth, and, for a moment, Ron thought it would come to blows.

But Yaxley turned away and started to walk towards the damaged camera while the other man laughed.

Leverage on Kirikov? What did they mean? Greyback didn't strike Ron as particularly smart. And he apparently didn't know any secrets or have useful contacts, unlike Yaxley. So what…

"Oh, no!" Hermione's gasp interrupted his thoughts. "I'm growing!"

He froze for an instant. No. Then he was moving - she was climbing out of the tyre. "No!" The two men would see her! He grabbed her leg, but she was already twice his size and halfway out of the tyre. And growing even more. He was dragged out of the tyre himself before he could let go, barely escaping from being crushed by her legs as he slid down the tyre.

Hermione had fallen about a foot on to the ground before she was back to her natural size. He saw her roll and draw her gun, but before she could clear it from her holster, Greyback slammed into her, yelling like a madman, and pushed her down on to the ground again. Her pistol slid across the floor, ending up under the closest car.

And away from Ron's still shrunken form. He started to run towards them - if Hermione had regained her original size, then he couldn't be far behind, could he?

But he stayed tiny, struggling to reach her, while Greyback grappled with her. "Intruder!" the man yelled, lashing out. His fist caught Hermione on the chin, throwing her head back and dislodging her cap.

"What the…" Greyback grunted as his next blow hit her stomach. And Ron was still too far away to intervene - and still tiny. At his current size, his rifle wouldn't do more than, perhaps, sting the man. But… Ron raced ahead, hand dipping into his pouch. He needed to get closer.

Hermione looked stunned and didn't resist when Greyback grabbed her hair and pulled her head up to face him. "The hell! Granger! It's Granger!" he shouted.

And Ron was close enough, finally! He snapped his arm forward and let fly, throwing a grenade that landed on the back of Greyback's calf.

A moment later, the grenade went off, and Greyback screamed like a stuck pig as the white phosphorus started to burn through his trousers and leg. The big man reared back, flailing, reaching for his calf, trying to put out the fire.

And his screams turned into gurgling, wheezing noise when Hermione stabbed him in the throat with her knife. Ron heard her screaming incoherently as she repeatedly rammed the blade into the man's throat and chest. Even with his throat cut and his leg on fire, though, he still managed to lash out, sending her knife flying, before he collapsed, blood splattering over her and the floor.

Yes!, Ron thought as he had to jump back to avoid getting caught by the man's spasming legs. Now they had to… He froze again.

Yaxley was there, gun pointed at Hermione, who was still caught under the dying brute. "Don't move, Dr Granger," he said with a sneer, "or I'll shoot you."

"Kirikov will shoot you," she retorted. But she had stopped moving.

"You'll survive a bullet or two," Yaxley said. "Kirikov's got an excellent surgeon on his staff."

If Ron managed to catch Yaxley's foot with another grenade… But the man was stepping to the side, away from Ron, until he was behind Hermione, then he roughly pulled her out from underneath Greyback's corpse before removing her webbing and bag.

And Ron was still shrunk and couldn't just dash over the open ground - Yaxley would notice. He took a detour, staying under the car. He just had to get close again.

By the time he reached them, Yaxley had Hermione on her feet, gun pushed into her back. Still… a burning foot would certainly distract him, but could Ron risk Hermione getting accidentally shot?

Before he could decide, though, he heard yelling in Russian - the guards had arrived. Too late. But the guards weren't yet in the garage, and Yaxley's attention was on her. And not on the ground.

Ron didn't hesitate - he sprinted across the floor and jumped on to Hermione's boot, then quickly climbed up to her ankle, hiding in the folds of her camouflage trousers.

And then he held on with all the strength he could muster as Yaxley marched Hermione out of the garage.

* * *

"_Focus, Miss Granger. The key to mastering Occlumency is to focus your mind. Force everything but the object of your focus from your mind."_

_She tried._

_There is a wall. A stone wall. Solid. Unmovable. Impervious to everything._

"_Do not close your eyes, please. It is difficult to check your progress like that, and you cannot count on your enemies letting you close your eyes, anyway."_

_She bit her lower lip and met the Headmaster's eyes, already knowing she had lost her focus. Another failure._

"_If they can force you to open your eyes, can't they force you to tell them what they want to know, anyway?" Ron asked._

"_That is a distinct possibility," the Headmaster admitted. "However, while they can physically force your eyes open with enough effort, it is much harder to force your mind open - provided you have mastered Occlumency, of course."_

"_One Imperius Curse and we'll happily tell them everything, anyway," Ron retorted. "Well, apart from Harry."_

"_That is not entirely accurate," Dumbledore replied. "While Harry's resistance to that particular spell is as fortunate as it is special, Occlumency would be of very little use if a single spell could undo whatever protection it provides."_

"_If it can protect us against the Imperius Curse, then why is that spell so feared?" she asked._

"_Why, Miss Granger, because one would need to be a master Occlumens to have a chance of resisting that curse. And few wizards or witches ever achieve that." He beamed at her and her friends. "However, I am fully confident that you will manage this before the year's end."_

_Hermione wasn't quite certain she shared the Headmaster's optimism. But she would do her best anyway. Her friends were counting on her, and she wouldn't be the weakest link. If they wanted to beat Voldemort, they _had _to master this._

"_Now, once more: Focus!"_


	25. Chapter 25: The Russian

Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. Their help is invaluable.

* * *

**Chapter 25: The Russian**

**West of Novorossiysk, Russia, September 30th, 2005**

They quickly covered the distance to the main house - or so Ron assumed; from where he was hidden inside Hermione's trousers, clinging to the top of her boot, he couldn't see much, and her staggering gait didn't help, either.

He heard a lot of Russian, though - and Yaxley repeating Kirikov's name several times. If they were taken straight to the former KGB agent… well, that would make sense, despite the late - or early - hour. Yaxley wanted to curry favour, that much was obvious from what they had overheard before things had gone sideways, and Kirikov would probably punish anyone who kept her capture from him, even if only for a short time, very harshly.

Ron really wished that he understood Russian, though. Or that Yaxley had spoken in English, instead of what Ron presumed was broken Russian.

They finally stopped moving for longer than half a minute, but Ron didn't relax. If he was thrown off or dropped to the ground, separated from Hermione, he wouldn't be able to catch up - no matter his size.

"Who's with you, Dr Granger?" he suddenly heard Yaxley ask.

Hermione didn't answer.

"You didn't kidnap Berisha and Sokolov by yourself," the traitor went on.

"Who?"

Yaxley snorted. "Don't try to claim ignorance. I know you're behind the attacks on them. Your presence here proves it."

"How so?"

Ron clenched his teeth. Yaxley wasn't Dumbledore, and she had handled his questions before. But Ron couldn't help worrying that she'd let something slip.

"No mere physicist would be able to sneak into this building."

"Technically, I was in the garage," Hermione retorted.

Ron suppressed a chuckle as he heard Yaxley growl.

"You'll find that Kirikov isn't quite as nice as I am," Yaxley replied after a moment. "If you try to mock him, you'll regret it. Who is with you? They won't be able to help you. They won't get into the house. And they won't hear you."

That must mean the house was built to block radio, Ron thought.

Fortunately, Hermione didn't reply to that. He carefully shifted around to take a peek at their surroundings without losing his grip. He couldn't see much, but there were four pairs of legs. One of them was Yaxley; he recognised the trousers. The others had to be guards. If only the Shrinking Solution he had taken would run out now… If he surprised them - and who wouldn't be surprised by someone appearing in their midst seemingly out of nowhere - he could take them. Probably.

Hermione had said the potion's duration could vary by as much as half an hour, given the dose they had taken, and accounting for the difference in body mass. Exertion might also be a factor.

So… any moment now.

But the - by now familiar - tingling sensation remained absent as he heard a door open and a new voice speaking in Russian. Then they were moving again. To meet Kirikov. Damn.

Another half a minute of clinging desperately to Hermione's ankle and boot followed. He suddenly worried whether or not she had even noticed that he was there inside her trousers. Then he had to snort at the wording of his thought.

And then they stopped, and he heard Yaxley speak again: "Mr Kirikov, as you can see, I captured Dr Granger. She infiltrated your very home and killed Mr Grey before I could step in. Your guards are searching the entire area for more intruders."

"She does look like Dr Granger." The man - Kirikov, Ron presumed, since he couldn't see him - didn't have much of an accent. "But how would a physicist be able to infiltrate my home?"

"That's what I was asking her," Yaxley replied.

"I wasn't talking to you, Mr Yaxley." After a moment, Kirikov went on. "Hm?"

"I came in through the door," Hermione replied. Ron could hear a slight tremor in her voice, though - she wasn't as cool as she tried to appear.

"How amusing. Did you take a blood sample to check her identity?"

"No. I wanted to…"

Kirikov cut Yaxley off with a snapped order in Russian. About ten seconds later, Ron felt Hermione twitch.

"We'll soon know whether or not you're Dr Granger," Kirikov said. "DNA doesn't lie. Or does it?" A few seconds passed, and Kirikov continued: "It gets a little confusing when dimensional travel is involved."

Ron felt Hermione twitch again and pressed his lips together. She really needed a better poker face. Especially when dealing with former spies.

"Ah." The Russian sounded delighted. "I wasn't sure whether it was cloning or dimensional travel. Your published research indicated the latter, but I couldn't dismiss cloning. Even though I couldn't think of any sound reason for someone to clone an eleven-year-old kidnapping victim. But a dimensional traveller? Trying to return home after assuming the identity of her deceased counterpart? That may sound like a movie, but it makes sense."

"My 'deceased counterpart'?" Hermione spoke up for the first time since they had met Kirikov.

"You didn't expect the girl to be still alive, did you?" The Russian's tone was condescending. Mocking.

"Such things have happened," she retorted.

"True. But I've got proof of the girl's death. An associate of mine - former associate, as Mr Yaxley has informed me - liked to take trophies of his victims."

Greyback. Or Grey, as Yaxley had called him. A serial killer! Ron suppressed the urge to curse.

"You've been working with a child murderer?" Hermione asked. She was tense - and angry.

"It meant I had a lot of leverage on the man, which was all that mattered during the Cold War. Every man has a weakness - Mr Yaxley, too, has one, although his isn't quite so violent." Kirikov laughed. "Although unlike Mr Yaxley, Mr Grey usually satisfied his urges in countries where life was cheaper than in Britain."

"I don't abuse children!" Yaxley spat.

"That doesn't matter. Once you had betrayed your country, you were ours. Or mine." Kirikov. "Although to be honest, I don't make a habit of working with paedophiles. If Mr Grey hadn't told me a most remarkable story when he needed my help a few months ago, I would have made him disappear instead of hiding him."

"How kind of you."

"I like to think I'm a practical man. Now, while we wait for the results of the DNA testing, why don't you explain how you arrived in my home?"

"I entered through the gate, like any visitor," Hermione replied.

"Hm. I think you're the sort of woman to tell the truth if she thinks it won't be believed."

Hermione tensed again. Ron closed his eyes, then slid down a little to check his surroundings once more. Kirikov. Yaxley. Two guards. He couldn't see anyone else, but he couldn't see all of the room. It looked like an entry hall, though - several doors. Probably Kirikov's personal quarters.

"So… did you phase through my gate? Or teleport? A limited dimensional shift? So many possibilities."

"You've read too many science fiction novels," Hermione told him.

"I think I didn't read enough," Kirikov replied. "You will tell me everything you know, Dr Granger. And you will work for me. Eventually."

"For you? I think President Putin would have some issues with that," she retorted.

"With your technology, and with new dimensions to explore, I will be able to name my price."

"Or take Putin's position, I would wager."

Kirikov didn't reply to that. He was probably smiling.

But why was she… Ah. She must be trying to gain time. Time for the Shrinking Solution's effects to end. Ron nodded and pondered his chances. Two guards - they would be armed, weapons ready. They would have to go down first. Yaxley was armed, probably, but he wouldn't have his gun out in Kirikov's presence. And Kirikov didn't strike Ron as the sort of man who'd wave a gun around when talking to a prisoner. He was the type to behave in a most civilised manner - until he didn't get his way. He couldn't hold a candle to Dumbledore, though.

Still, four against one. Two, if Hermione had a magic trick up her sleeve. But either Yaxley or Kirikov would, at the very least, have had her cuffed before this meeting. Probably searched - they would have taken her beaded bag, too.

"I don't think you could afford to fund my research," Hermione went on.

"I think you underestimate my wealth - and my contacts, Dr Granger. After all, someone is funding your research, and it isn't the British government."

"Definitely not," Yaxley cut in. "But she's not a mere physicist. She killed Grey with a knife."

"That's his blood? Ironic." Kirikov seemed amused.

While they were talking, Ron slid down a little further on Hermione's ankle, almost completely exposing his head. Yaxley wasn't carrying the bag. Neither was Kirikov. But… There! He spotted the handle of the bag, hanging down from a table at the back of the room.

What he didn't spot was a good position to ambush Kirikov and the others. Not that he could risk leaving Hermione only for her to be taken to some cell or interrogation room, with Ron, shrunk, left behind here.

"She wasn't fazed by the deed, either," Yaxley went on. "That's why we tied her up."

So Hermione was cuffed. Her legs were free, but she was no Jackie Chan, so she wouldn't be able to fight with kicks.

"If she were a mere physicist, she wouldn't have entered my home. Though I wonder what your goal was. Did you come alone? Or did you bring friends along?"

"She was alone. We searched the garage," Yaxley replied.

"Quiet," Kirikov snapped. "If you brought friends along, then why weren't they with you?"

Hermione didn't answer, but Ron was certain that she would be pressing her lips together, giving the game away anyway.

"Ah. Were they supposed to be with you? Is your travelling method not quite as perfect as it should be for such operations?" Kirikov chuckled. "No, you wouldn't have been the first to enter in that case. You'd have more expendable people on point." He laughed. "Oh, what a glare. It's simply common sense, Dr Granger. Although, seeing as you are here and not safely working in a secret lab, perhaps you have trouble with the concept."

Once more, she didn't reply.

"Or, maybe, you aren't a mere physicist, but also an assassin? You came here to kill me, by yourself. Using the advanced technology Dumbledore and Grindelwald crave. Oh, don't act surprised - it was quite obvious that they're the ones backing you, after Berisha."

Was that a false trail? Had Kirikov deduced that, or did he have a high-ranking mole in Dumbledore's organisation who would be aware of Hermione, and this was just a smoke screen? Would he bother with that when he had her captured?

"But why would Dumbledore risk you on such a silly operation? Or… is it that he couldn't contain his tool?"

"I'm no one's tool," Hermione snapped. Ron hoped that she was deliberately acting as if she'd lost her temper.

The Russian laughed again. "I'm looking forward to finding out what your technology can achieve."

"Mr Kirikov, if she does have others with her…" Yaxley said.

"She wouldn't have been the first in. And while my guards aren't trained to deal with teleporting enemies, they are trained and ready to deal with intruders. We would have noticed any other intruders."

That would be the ideal time to start growing again, in Ron's opinion. But the tingling sensation he was waiting for didn't start.

"You've no idea what - or who - you're facing," Hermione spat.

"Perhaps. But I'm sure that in a little while, you'll be telling me everything I'll need to know, Doctor," the former spy replied. "Everyone talks, after a while."

Ron felt her tense up again. She must be suffering a flashback to her torture, he realised.

And then he felt the Shrinking Solution's effect start to end.

Cursing under his breath, he pushed off, barely clearing the trousers before he grew too large and got stuck, and slid over Hermione's boot. He managed to get his G3 clear before he hit the ground and started firing while he was still growing.

One burst hit the first guard in the throat and head - he had aimed for the chest, but the rapid growth had thrown his aim off. He twisted and fired another burst into the second guard while the man was still trying to react. The man was caught in mid-turn and fell down on the ground, dropping his rifle.

Ron continued to turn, the barrel of his assault rifle catching Yaxley's arm before the traitor could get his pistol clear of his holster. Ron fired at once, but Yaxley dropped to the floor, then rolled and ploughed into Ron's legs.

Unbalanced, Ron threw himself forward into a combat roll, coming up in a crouch, rifle aimed at Kirikov - just as the Russian disappeared through a door in the back.

Ron dropped to the ground at once, twisting to roll behind a table, as a shot barely missed him - Yaxley hadn't lost his pistol! Ron kept rolling over his shoulder, pulling his rifle with him. Another bullet went through the table, hitting the floor next to him while he struggled to bring his rifle to bear - the thing was heavy and unwieldy.

Another shot hit his shoulder, but the vest he was wearing stopped the bullet. Then he screamed when his leg suddenly felt as if it were on fire, and again when he rolled over his bleeding limb. He dropped the rifle and grabbed for the butt of his pistol, knowing he'd be too late as Yaxley was just drawing another bead on him.

But something - someone - hit Yaxley from behind, spoiling his shot. Hermione! She had managed to throw herself against Yaxley's legs even with her hands bound behind her back!

Despite the pain, Ron grinned as he swung his arm around and double-tapped the traitor in the chest. Yaxley stopped moving and collapsed, and Ron shot him in the head for good measure.

"Hermione?"

"Ron! You're bleeding!"

He wanted to claim it was just a flesh wound, but it hurt too much, and his attempt at a joke turned into a hiss.

"My bag! You need a potion!" Hermione yelled, struggling to get up.

"Let me cut your cuffs!" Ron snapped. They didn't have much time - Kirikov's guards would arrive at any moment.

"These are handcuffs!" she shot back.

"Damn! Stay down!" He tried to stand, but his leg crumpled under him, and the pain... Dear Lord, the pain! He screamed again through clenched teeth.

"Ron!"

He ignored her and crawled towards the table with the beaded bag, his wounded leg dragging over the floor. And, as he noticed when he glanced at the door to check for enemies, leaving a bloody trail.

And Hermione didn't stand down. She had managed to get up and rushed ahead, turning to grab the bag with her cuffed hands.

Someone yelled from outside the door, and Ron rolled over, gasping when his leg lit up in pain again, and aimed his pistol at the door. A moment later, someone started knocking on the door - hitting it. They couldn't enter, he realised. Kirikov had locked out his own guards.

He blinked. Had he hit his head? He was having trouble focusing. He felt lightheaded, too.

He was bleeding out, he realised. Yaxley must have nicked an artery or something.

"Ron!"

Hermione! He looked over his shoulder and saw she was on the ground, crawling - if you could call it that without the use of her arms - towards him, pulling the bag along.

"Pull out the emergency potions!" she yelled, twisting to drop the bag next to him.

Right. The potions. The healing potions. But Kirikov was just one room away - he could charge in at any time. He swung around and aimed at the door in the back.

"Ron!"

He grabbed the bag and pulled it towards him. Right. He reached inside - his leg didn't hurt any more - and grabbed the first aid box, with the potions. "Which one?" he asked as he opened it.

"The blue and red ones! Ron!"

He grabbed a blue potion and bit into the stopper. Everything was so heavy. And he was so tired…

"Ron!"

Hermione again. She was sliding towards him. He pulled the stopper out with his teeth, keeping the pistol trained on the door, then tipped the vial back.

"Now the red! The red!"

Another potion? He had drunk one already and he wasn't really in pain any more. But she kept nagging. He grabbed a red one and drank it as well.

And his eyes shot open.

"Bloody hell!"

The pain was back - lessened, though still very much present. But he could bear it. That he had almost died, on the other hand, without noticing… He shook his head and checked Hermione's cuffs. "Did you see who had the keys?"

"One of the guards."

That meant crossing the room, potentially exposing himself to Kirikov - if the Russian hadn't fled the room already. Perhaps a smoke screen… no, that would blind him as well. He keyed his radio - should have done so already. "Team One to Team Two. Over." Code names, he reminded himself - they would have taken Hermione's radio with her other gear. No answer. Right, blocked. Paranoid Russian former spy.

He reloaded his pistol, then holstered it and grabbed his G3. A few more shots through the open door would, or so he hoped, keep Kirikov from getting any ideas. He fired a burst, then dashed forward and jumped to his right, out of the line of fire of anyone on the other side of the door.

Half-heartedly keeping the muzzle pointed at the door, he searched the closest dead guard. Nothing.

No one had fired back yet. Kirikov must have fled then - or he was hiding and hoping to ambush them. Which meant he would be trapped in here with them and couldn't reach his guards. Blocked radios cut both ways, Ron thought with a grin.

He grabbed the dead guard's rifle and hooked it around the leg of the second guard, then pulled the body towards him. "Found them!"

Before he crawled back to her and unlocked her cuffs, he fired a few more shots to deter anyone from rushing them and reloaded his rifle.

"I really hope you've got some magic up your sleeve," he whispered as she rubbed her wrists, both of them crouching behind a sturdy looking dresser. "We need to get out of here before Krikov's men get their act together."

"I'm afraid not," she said. "Perhaps…"

He cut her off by raising his hand. "Listen!"

Yes, someone was shooting nearby. Not too close.

"Harry and Sirius," she whispered.

This was their chance. If their friends were attacking the guards, they could escape from this room. But out the front? No. The guards would be covering the door from their side.

"We need to get Kirikov," Hermione interrupted his thoughts. Was she mad? They had to escape, not go on a manhunt. "He's a coward - he's running. As Karkaroff did."

He frowned, but she was probably correct. Either way, they had to get out. And if she didn't have a magical door opener of some sort, he would have to use a mundane one. "Give me the Semtex."

She gasped but handed him the package. It should be enough to blow a hole in the wall, even if it was reinforced. But it was also enough to kill everyone inside.

This would be tricky.

"I think I have something that will help," Hermione said. She stuck her hand inside her bag and withdrew a vial. "Swelling Potion."

What would she want with that? They needed to reduce the wall, not reinforce it further.

"For cover."

Ah. That might work. Should work. Or they were dead. Probably.

They moved out of the room and into the room behind. Kirikov had disappeared, though Ron couldn't spot an escape tunnel. Not that he'd try to follow the Russian down a tunnel anyway. Berisha had been close enough - Kirikov definitely would have trapped his escape route.

Hell, Kirikov would have trapped his damn home. They really needed to get the hell out of here. He started placing the charges on the wall that should - according to Hermione - lead outside while she pulled a steel plate and foam mattresses out of her bag and disappeared from sight round the next corner.

He heard shots, much closer now - someone was shooting into the room they had just left. Ron doubted that Kirikov wanted to risk killing Hermione, so either this was merely suppressive fire aimed high or Kirikov hadn't reached the guards and someone else had managed to open the door. Either way, grenades would soon follow. Stun or frag. Or tear gas.

He hurriedly finished placing the explosives. "Ready?"

"Yes!"

He didn't trust the radio detonator so he started the timer. Thirty seconds.

Then he rushed to Hermione, who was pouring some liquid on a steel plate, which quickly started to grow. He dashed past it and dived under the foam mattresses she had arranged in a pile. A moment later, they started growing as well, and Hermione joined him beneath them.

"Couldn't that act as a counter to the Shrinking Solution?"

"No, it doesn't work like that - it's much less…"

An explosion strong enough to shake the floor and knock the breath out of them interrupted her.

* * *

Ron blinked. Had he been knocked out? He couldn't tell. But if he had, it couldn't have been for long. He twisted, pushing the huge mattresses off him. Or tried to. "Her..." He coughed once more. "Hermione?"

"Here!"

She had been next to him. To his left. He groped around, managing to stand up, finally pushing the foam off. There! No.

She was in the process of crawling out from underneath a stack of mattresses which had been pushed together, pressing down on her. He grabbed her arms and pulled, and she slid free.

"Thanks."

Smoke started to fill the room - the explosion must have set the furniture on the other side on fire. "Are the mattresses flammable?" he managed to ask, coughing at the end.

"I don't know."

Swell. Literally, he thought. "Let's go!" He grabbed his rifle and moved forward, climbing over another mattress, then swung around the corner, leading with the G3. Something - someone - was moving in the smoke, and Ron fired at once. The body dropped, and he heard Russian curses. He had placed the charges on his right, so…

Hermione grabbed his belt. "Move!"

He moved forward, almost stepping on the mangled remains of another Russian. Or two - it was hard to tell, but there were two SMGs on the ground. They must have charged in right before the explosives went off.

Clenching his teeth, he advanced a little more.

"Team Two to Team One. Where are you? Team Two to Team One."

That was Harry! The hole in the wall must let radio waves through! "Team Two. Breached wall. Lost one radio."

That should keep their friends from shooting them. It would also warn whoever was listening in, but Kirikov already knew where Ron and Hermione were. And his guards would be scrambling to cover the breach.

He dashed forward, almost pulling Hermione off her feet, and pressed himself against the wall next to the breach, Hermione behind him. He peered around the corner for a fraction of a second, spotting the lawn outside, then pulled back. Just in time - a burst of automatic fire hit the edge of the breach and sent dust and concrete splinters flying.

"They don't seem to care about taking you alive," he muttered.

"They probably don't know about me yet," Hermione pointed out. Then she fired the SMG she had picked up - at someone behind them.

The Russians were moving in through the wrecked rooms. And they were covering the area outside the room. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Perhaps they could take another dose of Shrinking Solution and let the Russians assume that they'd teleported? No, they would never make it out of the compound. And the fire wasn't helping. The fire… "Do you have a potion of fire resistance?" he asked.

"Yes…" Hermione was already opening her bag. "And gallons of petrol."

"Exactly what I was thinking," Ron told her, grinning, as she handed him a potion. "Let's set the whole place on fire!"

He swallowed the potion, then took one jerry can and poured half of its contents on the broken furniture nearby. Hermione followed his example. Then he threw the can towards the back of the room and took another, which he emptied on the floor, near the breach - most of it flew outside.

"We can't stay inside; the potion won't let us breathe fire," Hermione said

"We'll stay here at the breach," he replied. There should be enough air here. And they wouldn't need to wait too long before the Russians would consider them dead. Or the whole house caught fire.

He pushed the button on his radio. "Team One to Team Two. We're using the fire solution." Then looked at Hermione and nodded, and she used a lighter. A moment later, the petrol ignited, the flames rapidly spreading. Then the whole area was on fire.

He could hear the Russians cursing outside - and inside. Although breathing was a little harder than he'd expected, they would manage. At least long enough for the Russians to give up.

He moved forward a little and peered out of the breach again. Burning petrol covered his leg and foot - and stuck. He was on fire. And he didn't even feel hot. Breathing grew more difficult, though. Sooner than he had expected. And Hermione was constantly coughing.

Damn. They had to move, and soon. "Move to the breach!" he told her, then dashed across it to the other side. That would gain them some time. Not enough, though - shots hit the edge of the breach again.

And more shots followed, though he couldn't spot where the bullets had hit.

"Team Two to Team One. Way's clear, but avoid the grass!"

Ron didn't hesitate. He trusted Harry. "Let's move!" he yelled to Hermione, then slid around the corner, out of the house. Someone was waving at him about twenty yards away, near the entrance to the guest house. Harry!

He grabbed Hermione's hand - she was stumbling a little and still coughing - and rushed towards his friend.

"Avoid the grass!" he heard Harry yell again.

"I got it the first time," he muttered. A bullet kicked up some dirt near his foot, and he pushed himself to run faster, despite the stabbing pain that caused in his leg. Harry and Sirius were laying down some covering fire, but that wouldn't stop a determined enemy.

He heard another bullet whizz past his head and ducked. "Sniper!" he yelled, resisting the urge to drop and try to return fire. He would be completely exposed on the path here. Especially since he was still covered in burning petrol.

Two more bullets missed - both aimed low, again, hitting the stone plates forming the path - and then he and Hermione were past Harry and behind the corner their friends had taken.

Ron dropped and pressed himself against the wall. "We need to get out of here." He started to try to put the fire on his legs out by slapping his trousers, but without much success.

"No, we need to get Kirikov!" Hermione yelled back, arm in her bag. A moment later, she pulled a blanket out and spread it over Ron's legs, smothering the flames.

"We're kind of outnumbered here," Harry replied while he reloaded. "And getting low on ammo."

Hermione responded by handing out more magazines. "He'll be running. He's the type to run. He doesn't know how many of us there are, he doesn't know what we can do - and he suspects the worst. He'll run!"

"What did you do?" Sirius asked, switching places with Harry to reload.

"Made him think that we can teleport," Ron replied as he pulled the obviously fire-resistant blanket off his legs. "And he knows Hermione's a dimensional traveller."

"Oh." Sirius nodded. "That explains why they didn't hose you down with a machine gun. Couldn't risk hitting you, Hermione."

Ron crawled towards Harry and joined him behind the corner. Some wrecked furniture from the guest house served as additional cover, but Ron didn't really trust it to stop a high-powered rifle.

"Enemies at both corners," Harry told him. "We got a few of them, but they have reserves."

At least with the yard razed, they didn't have to fear someone flanking them. Unless there were secret tunnels to the guest house.

And the fire was spreading, Ron noticed. That would make the enemies' positions untenable sooner rather than later - they didn't have magic protection from the flames. "Did you call Luna?"

"We did, but got no response," Harry replied.

Damn. Probably jammers preventing their radios from reaching Luna's. "She'll have eyes on the compound," Ron said. "She'll use her initiative." Or Ginny would push her.

"She better use it quickly," Harry yelled back, sliding behind cover to reload again. "If they get desperate, they might rush us anyway."

Ron popped up and fired a few rapid shots at either corner and briefly covered the house - just in case someone was suicidal enough to take up a firing position so close to the spreading flames.

Someone returned fire from the left, and Ron squeezed off a long burst at their position. "We need to waste more ammo!" he snapped. "Make them think we're more numerous!"

"Get a machine gun, then," Harry yelled back. "Or two."

But Sirius had already come to the same conclusion - Ron saw him approach with an MG-3, dragging belts of ammo. "Make way!" the older man yelled, and Ron slid to the side. Sirius quickly set up the machine gun and started firing long - very long - bursts at Kirikov's house.

If that didn't convince the Russians to retreat…

Something flew past them above and crashed into the garage. A moment later, the entire building blew up.

Luna must have used her helicopter as a cruise missile, he realised Probably set it on a straight course, to avoid it crashing due to being jammed. Ron really hoped that no one had been in the garage. It should have been cleared by Harry and Sirius already - they had been inside when they returned to their natural size, hadn't they?

"Alright," Sirius yelled, whooping. "No more getaway cars!"

"Didn't you sabotage them already?" Hermione asked, bringing more ammo to them.

"Yes, but now he can be sure they're not an option any more," Sirius replied.

"His house is burning, his garage blown up, his guest house occupied, he thinks we can apparate, and he doesn't know whether we have another 'missile' ready…" Hermione bared her teeth. "He'll run!"

"And we'll stop him," Ron replied with a matching grin. Payback time.

But they still had no communication with Luna and Ginny - or the yacht. And no eyes on the other side of Kirikov's house.

"He'll leave some men to cover his retreat," Sirius said between firing two more long bursts at the corners held by the enemies. "Or has left them already."

Ron glanced up. They couldn't see all of the area, but a drone could. Luna would be watching the entire area. And while they couldn't talk to her over the radio, there were ways to alert them to someone fleeing. Like circling or hovering over a specific location. He couldn't spot a drone, though. It must be flying too high to be easily visible at night.

"We need to cut him off before he can escape by boat," Hermione insisted.

"We can't just rush them," Harry shot back. "And we don't know how long they'll stick to orders not to risk hitting you."

"Grenades!" Sirius snapped. "Let's take out his rear guard."

It was a little far for throwing grenades from cover - they couldn't stand up without exposing themselves. But they had grenades to spare in Hermione's beaded bag of holding.

And while neither Ron nor Harry were professional athletes, they hadn't skipped physical education in school. Ron grabbed two grenades and crawled forward until he could see the leeward corner, partially covered in smoke from the fire. "Ready!" he yelled.

"Ready!" Harry added.

Sirius and Harry started firing long bursts to make the enemy keep their heads down. Ron took a deep breath, grit his teeth and rose a little. His first grenade fell a bit short, most of the splinters would have hit the wall. But his next grenade landed right where he wanted it to - on the other side of the corner.

Then he rose and started to lay down covering fire while Harry used his grenades to deal with the other corner.

"Go! Go!" Harry yelled, already running forward to his corner.

Ron followed his example, rushing the other corner - thanks to the potion, he wouldn't have to worry about the heat from the fire. Or not overly so. He reached the corner, then leaned forward, peering around it for a moment. Two bodies. And a shooter who just missed him. Damn.

"Stubborn Russians," he muttered.

"Here's another grenade." Hermione was right behind him, pressed against the wall.

He grabbed it, then moved cautiously forward. But before he reached the corner, a series of explosions shook the entire ground. He jumped back, tackling Hermione to the ground, covering her with his body, as more explosions followed.

As soon as they stopped, he looked up despite his ringing ears. Half the house had disappeared - turned into burning rubble. Kirikov must have been storing something very explosive. He rolled off Hermione and brought his rifle up; if this was meant to stun them for a counter-attack…

"Ron! Harry! Hermione! Sirius!"

That was Luna! The explosions must have taken out the jammer, or the generator powering it! "Team One to Team Three, we're OK."

"Team Two to Team Three, we're alright as well," Sirius reported.

"Good!"

"There's a boat leaving the beach!" Ginny cut in.

"We need to hurry!" Hermione jumped up.

"Careful!" Ron grabbed her hand.

For a moment, she tried to pull away. Then she relented. "He'll get away!"

"Team Two to Team Three, can the backup stop them?"

"On it!"

"It's a zodiac," Ginny told them. "About four… yes, four people are inside."

The yacht should be able to catch the zodiac, then, Ron thought.

Then Luna came back on the radio. "The Russian Navy's coming!"

Bloody hell.

* * *

"_Are those all of the wands you've recovered?"_

"_All we could spare," she told Remus. Harry should be handling this, but he was currently snogging Ginny in the tent they had put up for this meeting with Remus's cell._

_He frowned. "Most of the muggleborns whom we managed to save had had their wands confiscated. We need to replace them. Without a wand, they are helpless." _

_And useless in the war, she mentally added. "I know. But we need spare wands, in case we lose our own." They had the most important task - not that they could tell Remus that, although he likely suspected it, anyway - and the most dangerous. Besides, they had ambushed those Snatchers and taken the wands from them. It wasn't as if they were taking them from others._

_He stared at her for a moment, then slowly, and with obvious reluctance, nodded._

"_If you lose your wand, odds are you'll be dead or captured, anyway," a voice sounded behind her._

_She turned to face the speaker. She hadn't seen the woman before this meeting, and the other witch had kept her distance so far. But Remus was smiling ever so slightly. "Hello, Tonks."_

"_How did you…?" The woman pouted, confirming her guess. "I didn't stumble this time!"_

_She nodded at Remus. "He was smiling."_

"_Ah." Tonks frowned at her husband, though it was apparent that she didn't mean it. "Anyway, my point stands," the former Auror continued, addressing her._

"_It might be situational," she retorted, "but it could end up being the difference between living and dying."_

"_And the sort of idiots who went to the Ministry like sheep would be useless in the war anyway, with or without a wand," Ron said from where he was checking supplies. "Sorry, but we need backup wands more than they need to be able to cast a Wand-Lighting Charm."_

_She chuckled at that, and he flashed her a smile. Ron…_

_She faced Remus again, her own smile fading. "I'm sorry," she lied, "but we really need the spare wands." It wasn't like they could learn wandless magic. Well, in theory, they could - if they could spare the time - but it wasn't worth the effort. Not when they needed to learn so much else that was much more useful in a fight than a few wandless tricks._

_He sighed once more but nodded. Good._

_There was no need to tell him that they didn't just have a second wand each but had also hidden more wands in caches._

_After all, if they failed their mission, the whole war was lost anyway. _


	26. Chapter 26: The Conclusion

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 26: The Conclusion**

**West of Novorossiysk, Russia, September 30th, 2005**

"How long until the Russians arrive?" Ron heard Sirius asking over the radio.

"They're in a helicopter," Luna replied.

Damn. "Can we reach the yacht before the helicopter arrives?" Ron asked. He doubted it - if the yacht had noticed the helicopter, it would have to be quite close already - but he had to ask.

"No," Luna said. "They're retreating from Russian territorial waters."

The yacht was retreating? Damn. Ron had no doubt that Dumbledore had given firm instructions to support Hermione to the utmost, so that meant they judged the situation pretty much hopeless. "We need to retreat ourselves," he said.

"But…"

He shook his head at Hermione. "We can't stop Kirikov. Not with the yacht withdrawing. And that means there's no point in staying any longer."

She pressed her lips together, but he knew that he was correct. They had to withdraw now, quickly. Before the Russian military arrived. Even in the best case, things would escalate into an international incident.

"Everyone, fall back!" Sirius echoed Ron's thoughts. "The mission's a failure; we need to retreat post-haste!"

Hermione muttered something and pulled a vial out of her bag. "Invigoration Draught," she told him. "We'll have to hike."

Ron nodded. In hindsight, blowing up the garage and all the cars hadn't been an entirely good idea.

They fell back, Ron covering their retreat - not that he thought that, after their losses, the guards had the guts to counter-attack - and met up with Harry and Sirius back at the gate, which someone must have opened at some point since the whole mess had started. Probably a guard fleeing - they'd have to keep an eye out for them.

"Move!" Sirius yelled. "We only have a few minutes to reach cover!"

They ran along the road for a few hundred yards, then left it and headed straight for the hills where Luna and Ginny were hiding. Ron was already panting, and his legs felt as if someone had strapped weights to his feet. And yet, he kept running. They had to be under cover before the Russian chopper arrived.

At least Hermione managed to keep up - but once her potion ran out…

Ron finally had to stop running when they reached a steep slope - he had really started to hate the things - because he simply couldn't push himself any further.

"Here," Hermione said behind him.

He turned his head and saw that she was holding out a vial towards him. "How long will it last?"

"A few hours."

He shook his head. They couldn't afford to have two of them collapse in a few hours. "I'll manage."

"Let's rest there," Harry said, pointing at a small, narrow ravine nearby.

Ron nodded and slid down into it. It was narrow enough to hide them from view unless someone was flying directly overhead. He helped Hermione down, then made way for Harry and Sirius.

Sirius looked exhausted as well. "The Russians will be all over the area in force very soon. The yacht won't be able to send a zodiac to pick us up."

"We'll have to swim, then," Hermione said.

"I joined the army instead of the navy for a reason," Sirius muttered. But he didn't have a better idea.

Then they heard the unmistakable sound of a flying helicopter, and everyone stopped talking and pressed themselves against the earth. If the thing started a sweep of the area…

But during the next few minutes, the sound didn't grow louder - they must be focusing on the burning compound.

"We need to move now," Harry said, "while they're trying to find out what happened."

Ron groaned but pushed himself up. "Let's go, then." They had to rejoin Luna and Ginny.

* * *

"Harry!"

As soon as they entered the cave, Ginny jumped up and came towards them. Ron barely managed to move out of the way before she shoulder-checked him on her way to Harry. He stumbled and almost fell anyway - he was more tired than he had realised. Of course, he had spent the whole night marching and fighting. Literally, since the sun had come up already.

"We need to rest," he said.

"We can't rest," Sirius retorted. "The Russians won't take this attack lying down. They'll comb the area. If we don't get moving now, they'll catch us."

"We can't move," Harry told him, still holding Ginny. "We can barely walk."

"And it's daylight outside already," Ron's sister added.

"Doesn't matter with night vision gear," Sirius replied. "But we need to move. Now."

"I have a potion that can keep us going," Hermione said. "But we'll collapse in a few hours."

"A little less for you," Ron pointed out.

"That doesn't matter. We can't stay here, and we can't hide well enough from Russian border troops. They'll know the terrain," Sirius insisted.

Ron wasn't quite so sure about the quality of the Russian troops in the area, but he'd rather risk running than waiting in a hole in the ground and hoping that the enemy didn't find them. "Alright. Luna and Ginny won't drink, though."

"We don't need to," Ginny agreed. "I'm good for a marathon." Ron snorted in response, and she glared at him. "Someone has to handle the underwater sledge."

And she was the only one among them who had ever used one. He nodded, then grabbed one of the vials Hermione was handing out. "How many do you have left?" he asked in a low voice.

"Two," she said. "I had six - two for each of…" She trailed off, and he nodded. He knew what and who she meant.

He unstoppered the vial and sniffed. Ugh. Hopefully, it wouldn't taste as bad as it smelt.

It did, actually. But he felt so great afterwards, he didn't mind. He was ready to run a marathon himself!

* * *

Ron shook his head as he stared at the beach from underneath a bush at the forest's edge. Fifty yards of open ground and then the surf. In broad daylight. With two Russian choppers overhead. He didn't like their chances.

"What are the odds they'll drop depth charges if they spot us diving?" Luna asked. "Do the Russians have depth charges any more?"

"The Royal Navy still has them in their arsenal," Sirius replied. "So I guess the Russians will have them as well."

"But would their helicopters have them on board?" Ron asked.

"They can improvise some with grenades or explosives," the older man pointed out. "We'll need a distraction to make it to the water."

"The yacht could launch the drone," Ginny suggested.

"That would make them a target," Harry retorted. "The Russians might not care that the yacht's outside their territorial waters - they can always lie or say it was a mistake."

And sacrificing the yacht would leave them stranded in the Black Sea.

"I could use my second helicopter," Luna proposed. "Set it on autopilot and point it towards the remains of the house."

"Do you think they'll even notice it?" Harry asked.

"If I manage to fit a broadcasting radio to it?"

Ron didn't have to see Luna to know she was smiling impishly.

"Make it something insulting!" Ginny said.

"No, make it something they need to stop," Hermione interjected. "Something revealing what's happened. But do it quickly. We still need to swim about twelve miles before the potion runs out."

Ron nodded, grimacing. If they collapsed while still underwater, things would get… difficult. "Let's get on with it, then."

* * *

Modifying Luna's helicopter into a broadcasting drone took Luna and Hermione an hour. Well, mostly Luna - Hermione mainly assisted her. Though Ron did the wipe down to get rid of fingerprints and DNA traces. Just in case the Russians managed to capture it intact.

Before that, though, he helped the others assemble the underwater sledge from the parts stored in Hermione's bag. The thing was far heavier than expected, but that couldn't be helped.

And they were ready to rush into the sea when Luna launched the helicopter. The small machine lifted off and slowly gained altitude, flying more or less in the direction of the compound. "The radio should engage in a few minutes," Luna said, "as soon as it gets out of range of my remote control."

Ron wasn't exactly holding his breath, but he couldn't help feeling tense. If this didn't work, they would have attracted even more attention - it wouldn't take a genius to plot the course of the helicopter back to their spot.

"The Russians aren't moving yet," Harry reported.

"The helicopter isn't broadcasting... yet," Luna replied.

"They could've spotted it anyway," Harry retorted. Ron's friend was tense as well.

"I don't think so," Sirius, who was tracking the other Russian chopper with binoculars, replied. "Not with all the ground clutter."

Suddenly, a series of beeps started behind them. "It's started broadcasting!" Luna announced. "Godspeed, little helicopter!"

"No reaction," Harry said.

"Perhaps they don't understand Morse code… or they aren't on the channel…" Ginny speculated.

"Unlikely," Hermione told her. "That's the international emergency frequency, and Morse code is still standard."

"Helicopter just changed course!" Harry snapped.

"Mine as well!" Sirius added. "Going towards the compound…"

"Here, too!"

"Alright…" Ron wet his lips and took a deep breath. "Say when."

"Wait for it… wait for it…" Sirius told them. "They've taken the bait, but they haven't committed yet… mine is still covering the sea… now they're engaging! Go! Go! Go!"

Ron waited until Harry had joined him, then gripped one side of the sledge, checked that his friend had the other side and heaved. "Go!"

Down the slope they went, more jumping and sliding than running, and once the sledge almost fell on Ron's legs, until they hit the beach, where the sand made running more difficult. They ploughed through, however, straight into the surf, until they could lower the sledge into the water, where Ginny was already waiting.

Hermione was not far behind them, pulling ropes out of her bag. Sirius and Luna brought up the rear. A minute later, everyone had pulled on diving goggles and fastened the ropes to their harnesses. And they had pulled off their boots.

"Now eat the Gillyweed!" Hermione snapped. Ron saw her stuff the grass into her mouth a moment later.

Gillyweed… He snorted at the name, then took a bite. It tasted like raw calamari. Slimy and chewy. He swallowed it anyway - he had eaten worse before.

Nothing happened. Had the magic failed? Hermione had said it would work, but testing hadn't been possible without a large body of water. Not without the risk of suffocating. But if it only worked on wizards and witches…

Suddenly he couldn't breathe anymore. He choked, hands going to his throat - and pulled away when he felt pain in the side of his neck. Gills. He blinked. Hermione had already dived but resurfaced. "Go underwater!" she yelled. "You can't breathe air any more."

Right. Ron dove under the water and opened his mouth. He could breathe water now.

And his hands had webbed fingers now. And his feet...

He shuddered. They were going to be stuck like this for about an hour. At least the weed also protected them from the cold. Otherwise, this whole plan would be even more dangerous than it already was. No matter how much Hermione had told them that this weed had allowed Harry's counterpart to swim around underwater in the Black Lake for an hour without any prior training.

He looked around, spotting the rest of their group underwater. Luna seemed fascinated by her own transformation. Well, that wasn't exactly a surprise. But the others… He felt a tug on his harness, then he was dragged towards the open sea for about ten seconds, only for the rope to go slack again just when he had managed to reorient himself.

"Ginny!" he yelled with the air left in his lungs. Could she even hear him underwater?

"All aboard?"

Well, he could hear her. A quick look told him that the ropes had held - Ginny, on the sledge, was dragging all of them behind her.

"Yes!" Someone - probably Harry; it was hard to tell underwater - yelled.

A moment later, Ron was dragged behind the sledge again, but at a higher speed than before. And she was diving.

He tried to align his body with the rope, to reduce the drag, but spun out of control and hit the sandy seabed instead. That didn't hurt, fortunately. But getting sand into his gills? That did. As did trying to clear them by coughing. By the time he had managed to clear his gills - who knew what would happen if he had sand or something else inside his gills when the Gillyweed stopped working? - Ginny had stopped hugging the seabed, but she was still diving deeper. At least as far as Ron could tell.

He relaxed a little. Now all they had to worry about was keeping the sledge on course, and that was Ginny's job. And they could only hope that the Russians didn't drive the yacht away from the arranged pickup coordinates, outside territorial waters or not. And shark attacks, of course. Hermione and Ginny might have assured them that there was no real risk of being attacked by a shark in the Black Sea, but seeing how much had gone wrong on this mission, Ron wouldn't put it past them to stumble into a one-in-a-million encounter with a dangerous shark. Or perhaps a giant squid. Or for the Russians to deploy a sonar buoy close enough that the sonic waves hurt them.

He looked around and shuddered again. He couldn't see the ground any more, just darkness below them. And some dim light above them. They had to stay at this depth or they might be spotted from above, but he was very much aware that if the Gillyweed stopped working for any reason, they would have a devil of a time reaching the surface before they drowned. At least they didn't have to worry about decompression sickness.

Which was a very small consolation. He checked the watch on his wrist. They had been underway for ten minutes by now. Eleven minutes since they had taken Gillyweed. And he had no idea if they were making good time, or falling behind. The underwater sledge wasn't built for speed. If they had to resurface to take another dose of Gillyweed…

They travelled in silence. Just in case the Russians were listening. You couldn't talk without air in your lungs, anyway, and the Gillyweed just let you breathe water. It didn't turn it into air. People volunteered for this? Crazies, the lot of them.

He checked his watch again. Half an hour. Halfway there - or so he hoped. He still couldn't tell. To think that Harry's counterpart had done this alone, without any training, and had gone much deeper, to save Ron's counterpart… if they ever met, Ron would have to buy the bloke a pint. Not for saving his counterpart, of course, but for the sheer amount of guts this took.

The silence was getting to him. He could barely see the others around him. Everyone's rope was of a different length, so they wouldn't collide. Hermione was in front of him, as was Luna. Sirius was behind him, Harry brought up the rear. And with the Gillyweed, they all looked inhuman, too. Like the merfolk in some novels. Or games.

He focused on those stories for a while. How would they compare to actual, real, merfolk? No, merpeople, Hermione had told him. Most wouldn't resemble them, based on what he had heard from her. But there were dozens of different fictional versions.

After a while spent speculating, and not thinking about their present situation, he looked at his watch once more. Five minutes left. Damn. Ginny was cutting it too close - if she didn't…

As if she had read his mind, they started to move towards the surface. Slowly, for his taste - they were still going forward - but surely. Four minutes. Three minutes. Two. And they still weren't at the surface - his sister was really pushing it here. One minute.

Finally, Ginny stopped the sledge, right below the surface. Now all they had to do was wait until the Gillyweed ran out… He blinked. Hermione wasn't moving.

He felt his heart skip a beat. No! He detached his rope and swam towards her. She couldn't be…

She was still breathing, he realised with relief: Her gills were opening and closing.

But she was unconscious. The potion she had taken to keep herself going must have stopped working… and she couldn't eat any more Gillyweed if she was unconscious. If the yacht wasn't at the pickup point, or if Ron and his friends weren't…

Could he feed the weed to her? Make her chew and swallow? He didn't think so. The weed was too chewy, and cutting it up beforehand might ruin the magic. Ron pressed his lips together, then swam to the surface with a few strokes of his webbed limbs.

He couldn't see the yacht. Bloody hell!

He dived once more, to breathe, then resurfaced. Where was the yacht? And where were they? The had to be near the correct coordinates - they had calculated the heading they had to take, and Ginny had had a compass to steer. Even with a current, she would have been able to keep on course.

Had Dumbledore's men abandoned them? Unlikely. But they could've been held up. Or even detained by the Russians.

He took a deep breath to fill his lungs, suppressing the weird sensation of choking that caused, then dived down again to check on Hermione. He had to keep an eye on her, or she'd drown quickly once her gills vanished. Fortunately, she was still under the Gillyweed's effects. But for how much longer? She had said it would last an hour, but Ron didn't think it would end at the same time for everyone. And where was the damn yacht?

"Where's the yacht?" he yelled underwater, expelling the air from his lungs once more. "Hermione's unconscious!"

His yell startled the others, and he saw several of them swim towards the surface while one - Luna - swam towards Hermione. "She still has gills," he told her with the last of his breath.

He saw her mouth form a silent 'O'.

He nodded several times in response. Hermione was fine. So far.

Luna still checked for herself whether Hermione was still breathing water before she nodded back at him.

By that time, Ginny had joined them. "Radio!" she snapped, air bursting forth from her mouth. Then she was past them, headed to the underwater sledge.

Was she planning to call the yacht or use a locator signal to attract them? Probably both. Ron could only hope that the ship was close enough to reach them in time.

He checked for gills again. Hermione was still good. Then he felt a hand on his arm, squeezing his biceps. He turned his head and saw Luna smile and nod at him.

It helped. Only a little, but he managed to calm down and smile back at her before returning his attention to Hermione. There wasn't anything else he could do but guard her. And wait.

A few minutes later, he felt his throat starting to itch. Damn. He checked Hermione - her gills seemed fine. But he felt the urge to cough growing. He was running out of time.

He released her harness, then pulled her with him as he made for the surface. He reached it in time to cough and expel the water in his throat - and in his lungs, or so it felt. And it hurt. But he could - and had to - breathe air again when he recovered. And Hermione… Damn, her gills vanished in front of his eyes.

He pulled her head out of the water and opened her mouth. Water ran out, but she wasn't coughing. Or breathing. No!

He slid behind her and wrapped his arms around her, trying to squeeze the water out of her and make her breathe again. It didn't work - not entirely. Damn. Time was running out! "Harry! Help me!" he yelled.

His friend swam over.

"She's not breathing. Help me hold her up so the water can run out!"

Together, they managed to lift her up and tilt her. Ron saw more water flow out of her mouth. But she still wasn't breathing. She still had a pulse, though.

He grabbed her head and started mouth to mouth. "Get a boat we can drop her in!" he yelled in between breathing air into her. He barely noticed Harry and Luna inflating a small zodiac - an inflatable toy meant for the beach more than a real boat - while he kept blowing air into her lungs.

Finally, after several frantic minutes, he heard her cough and felt her chest move. And then she drew a shuddering breath. And another. And yet another.

He closed his eyes, crying with relief.

When the yacht arrived ten minutes later, Hermione was inside the boat, still unconscious. But she was alive. Ron didn't care about anything else.

* * *

**Black Sea, September 30th, 2005**

Ron woke up with a start. Where was he? What had happened? Then he remembered. The yacht had arrived. He and Harry had lifted Hermione on board, he had carried her to their cabin, had the medic examine her, then…

"You're early."

Hermione! He turned his head. She was lying next to him, a few books and notebooks spread out on her side of the bed.

"Early?" he managed to say.

"I expected you to sleep a little longer," she replied. With a frown, she added: "It seems my calculations and estimates are off lately."

Oh. "You said that the duration couldn't be predicted very precisely," he told her, reaching out to grab her hand.

"But I should have at least gotten the safety margins correct," she said. "I almost…" She trailed off, shuddering.

"Almost but not quite," he told her, rolling over and sitting up to hug her. She didn't start to relax until a few seconds later, though. He held her for a while, then withdrew. "So… I fell asleep instead of collapsing?"

"I assume so, yes. But I was still unconscious, so I can't be sure."

So his memory wasn't faulty. "And we're safe?"

"We've spent half a day sailing away from the Russian coast," she told him. "And we haven't been attacked."

He wanted to ask whether the crew had taken measures to ensure that there would be witnesses around, in case the Russians decided to ignore both international law and caution, but they were still afloat - alive - and Dumbledore had picked the crew. He had to trust them. Even though he didn't like it. "What about the others?"

"Luna and Ginny will be asleep by now - it's almost midnight. Harry and Sirius are still asleep, or should be."

"Good." Everyone was alright then. He closed his eyes and hugged her again.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"It wasn't your fault," he replied. "Just bad luck." And not enough planning and intel. They had messed up.

"I should have predicted this eventuality and planned for it. At least this time, I only endangered myself."

"Everyone knew the risks." He released her again and looked at her. She had told them that the duration could vary a lot.

"I should have known better."

"You can't blame yourself for everything that went wrong. Well, you can, but it'd be wrong," Ron told her with a grin.

She scowled at him, which was a step up from blaming herself, in his opinion.

Mission accomplished.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 4th, 2005**

It had taken them a few days to return to base, so to speak. They couldn't be too obvious, though Ron didn't think that the Russians would be fooled for long. Even if they had to search the entirety of the Black Sea coast and did know their identities.

But Dumbledore's men had come through, and after a few days spent in Bulgaria, two flights with private jets brought them first to Germany and then to Scotland, where two SUVs awaited them for the last leg of their journey back to Hermione's lab.

And to Dumbledore, Ron added with a sigh as he saw the building appear in front of them. Who would certainly have some words to say about the mission.

The cars passed the guards and a quick inspection, then drove straight into the subterranean garage. Filch was waiting for them, as usual. The wide smile he wore was unusual, though. Unusual, but not unexpected.

"I see operational security isn't the best," Sirius said as they left the cars. "Standards must be slipping."

"Mr Dumbledore trusts me," Filch retorted.

Sirius sniffed in return. "Nobody's perfect. Now make yourself useful and handle the baggage, will you?"

"You've got a big mouth for someone who failed his mission," Filch shot back through clenched teeth - Ron could spot the clenched muscles in the man's face as they walked past him.

"Shows what you know," Sirius said, baring his teeth at the man.

As soon as they were in the lift, though, Sirius rolled his eyes. "What a despicable, odious little man," he muttered.

"Careful, your upper-class bias is showing," Harry told him with a snort.

"It's not bias if it's the truth. That man was an enlisted soldier. Probably in the rear. And discharged for dereliction of duty. No, some minor crime." Sirius scoffed. "And now, petty as he is, he tries to get one up over his betters after a perfectly understandable minor setback."

Ron coughed, which earned him a glance and a frown from the older man.

Luna didn't show as much restraint. "What would have been a major setback or a complete failure, then?"

"A major setback would have been failing to acquire any intel at all. And a complete failure would have been our deaths," Sirius replied.

Well, Ron couldn't say he was wrong. But he wouldn't say they had been successful, either.

* * *

Dumbledore didn't show up before it was dinner time and Ron had to fetch Hermione from her lab. He didn't know whether this was due to travel schedules or planning, but he bet on the latter - the old man would have known when they would arrive days in advance. But did Dumbledore want them to stew a little longer about their mistakes before rubbing it in or did he want them to settle in and relax a little - decompress - after their hairy mission? Probably a little bit of both, Ron thought with a snort as he knocked and entered the lab. "Hermione! Dinner time!" he yelled - after checking that she wasn't in the midst of fiddling with high-powered machinery.

"Already?" she asked, frowning, as she looked up from her desk.

"Well, taking the time needed to get presentable into account, yes, already," he told her. "You wouldn't want to meet Dumbledore all scruffy-looking, would you?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, and her frown deepened. "I'm not scruffy-looking, you nerf herder!"

He laughed at her comeback. "Not if you freshen up a little," he replied, looking pointedly at her hair, which was straying more than a little from her ponytail.

He turned to look at her equipment to hide his smirk as she grumbled and fixed her hair, or at least made a valiant attempt at doing so. "So… nothing broke down in our absence?"

"Why would anything break down?" she replied. "Machines don't spontaneously break down after a few days of inactivity. At least not if they are constructed and stored properly," she quickly added before he could point out any of the exceptions - like cars that were left parked for too long.

"Well… you never know when quantum physics is involved, right?" he replied instead.

She rolled her eyes in return, muttering something about science fiction having a lot to answer for as she got up from desk and headed towards him. "Let's go, then."

He smiled and held the door open for her.

"How are the others doing?" she asked in the hallway.

He shrugged. "Everyone but you spent the afternoon in bed." Travelling was tiring, even if you had private jets and luxury SUVs at your disposal. She blushed a little, and he blinked. Oh. "We needed the rest," he added, lest she think he was criticising her decision to get back to work because he had wanted to fool around instead.

That caused her to press her lips together. "I'm fine."

Avoid one accidental insult, only to blunder into another… He chuckled. Which, of course, made her even more annoyed. "I know."

She looked confused for a moment, then frowned.

"Come on," he told her. "I bet Dumbledore is already waiting to debrief us over an excellent meal. And no blaming yourself!" he added, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Okay?"

He didn't think she would listen to him, but at least they weren't arguing any more.

* * *

Dumbledore was indeed already waiting for them when they entered the lounge for dinner. "Good evening, Dr Granger, Mr Weasley. I took the liberty of inviting myself to dinner."

"Good evening." Ron nodded at him. So the old man wasn't pretending to ask to join them, not tonight. That wasn't a good sign, even though he seemed as friendly as always. "It's your house, anyway, and we're your guests."

Hermione nodded, a little more sharply, "Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Mr Dumbledore!"

"Hello! Oh, that looks scrumptious!"

Sirius followed by Luna entered the lounge, the latter heading straight to the table where a basket containing several different kinds of bread had been placed.

"Good evening." Dumbledore's smile didn't change at all. "Please have a seat." He made a little show out of craning his neck to look down the hallway. "I trust Mr Potter and Miss Weasley will not be long?"

"They shouldn't," Ron replied. He had woken them up before he had fetched Hermione, after all.

"Indeed, here they are!"

Another round of 'good evenings' followed before everyone was seated and the meal began. The old man smiled and was pleasant, making small talk while they enjoyed an excellent selection of tapas, followed by a potato soup and a salad, both with quite expensive mushrooms, before the main course of veal tenderloin in cream sauce - that, in Ron's opinion, even Mum couldn't have done better.

He had just finished when Dumbledore finally dropped the pretence, if not his smile. "Now, I believe we have a mission to discuss, do we not?"

Ron sighed silently. This wouldn't be pretty.

"Please tell me, in your own words, how the mission went," Dumbledore said in a mild voice.

Sirius took it upon himself to answer, as they had agreed on the way back from the Black Sea: "We successfully made landfall on schedule using the yacht's zodiac, hid the supplies we couldn't carry with us, then took cover in a cave while we studied the target compound. Harry, Ron, Hermione and myself then infiltrated the compound. Unfortunately, due to bad luck, Hermione was discovered while hiding by Yaxley and another British traitor. She killed the traitor, who had apparently murdered her counterpart, but was captured by Yaxley. He brought her to Kirikov, but Ron managed to follow them without being spotted while Harry and I prepared a distraction in the form of an attack on the garage and house. When Ron jumped them, we attacked and destroyed the garage, pinning the guards down and covering Hermione and Ron's retreat. Yaxley was killed, but Kirikov escaped, although not before his base caught fire. The yacht could have intercepted him, but the Russian navy intervened, and they had to withdraw. We moved out and rejoined Luna and Ginny, then, using a drone as a distraction, entered the sea and swam, underwater, to the yacht."

"A succinct summary," Dumbledore told him, smiling widely. Ron felt relieved - it looked like their story would be accepted. "And how would you judge the mission's success?" the old man went on.

Sirius grinned in response. "We confirmed that it was Kirikov behind the attacks, and we discovered why he was trying to kidnap Hermione: One of the scum he turned traitor during the Cold War murdered her counterpart."

Dumbledore slowly nodded. "You are, of course, correct, though there is also the fact that the mission's objective wasn't merely to gather information."

"We also destroyed his base and deprived him of a significant number of men," Sirius said, baring his teeth.

"Yet Kirikov escaped, and - according to your own information and observations - we have to assume that he has informed the Russian government." Dumbledore sounded as if he was talking about the weather. "I fear that, on balance, the resources our enemies can direct at us have been increased by an order of magnitude. Perhaps two."

"For that, Putin would have to believe Kirikov," Harry retorted. "And the man has no proof for his story."

"None that we know of, now that Mr Grey has suffered his well-deserved fate," Dumbledore said. "But it would be rather reckless, almost blindly optimistic, to assume that President Putin will simply dismiss his old comrade as a lunatic."

"I don't think they were overly close," Ron pointed out, "otherwise, Kirikov would have boasted more about it. And I'm no former spy, but I doubt that Putin will blindly trust Kirikov - especially since both are former KGB officers."

"I concur," Dumbledore replied. "Russian paranoia was rampant during the Cold War. Even, or especially, within the KGB. However, I fear that President Putin will order a quite thorough investigation - including an exhaustive and quite possibly enhanced interrogation of Mr Kirikov."

Ron drew a breath through clenched teeth. That was true, as far as he knew.

"So," the old man continued, "that leaves the question of what such an investigation might reveal."

"Nothing!" Harry snapped. "We didn't leave any traces."

Indeed - the fire had destroyed the blood Ron had left back in the house. Although… "They took blood samples from Hermione," he said, "and we don't know if they were destroyed with the house."

"So that's how they confirmed Dr Granger's presence," Dumbledore said, nodding in acknowledgement. "And then there are a few hundred bullets, residue from explosives, the odd small arm, wreckage from a remote-controlled toy..."

"Technically, it was a drone!" Luna piped up.

"A drone, then." The former spymaster chuckled, before growing serious again. "As well as whatever equipment you left behind when you exfiltrated."

"We left no DNA traces and no fingerprints," Ron told him. "And the fire will have destroyed a lot of evidence. No proof left."

"Spoken from experience, no doubt," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Albeit as a police officer. In the spy business, we're rarely concerned about the legal niceties, or proof beyond any reasonable doubt." He leaned forward, putting his hands on the table. "The Russians know - or will soon - about Dr Granger. The question is: What exactly do they know?"

"They suspect that I'm from another dimension," Hermione replied. "Unless Kirikov's opinions are dismissed as delusional, they will assume I can travel between dimensions."

And teleport, Ron added silently. Or apparate, as Hermione called it.

"Indeed. Though I don't think that this is all they will assume - or deduce." Dumbledore inclined his head. "The manner of your arrival within Kirikov's base, as well as the way you chose to leave Russia, both lead to interesting conclusions."

Ron glanced at Hermione. She was pressing her lips together - she must have also realised that Dumbledore wasn't just talking about the _Russians' _conclusions.

And so did the old man, judging by the way his smile twisted slightly. "I'm a very experienced spy, Dr Granger. In my time, I've gone on several missions few would have survived, and I have ordered even more. I'm well aware of the current state of the business, so to speak. And yet, I cannot fathom how you managed what you obviously achieved. Mr Weasley following Mr Yaxley without being spotted by the guards? Being able to surprise Kirikov? The man is a former KGB agent, and you were attacking him in his home. He wouldn't have started an interrogation if he hadn't felt secure and prepared for any eventuality." He looked directly at Ron. "And, while you are a remarkably talented young man, Mr Weasley, you've never been trained for this sort of work. Which means either Kirikov had hired inept guards or you were allowed to rescue Dr Granger and escape."

Damn. Ron cursed under his breath. The old man had seen through their story.

"But what would be the point of letting you escape? You wouldn't lead them to us; you checked for tracking devices, as did my men." Dumbledore shook his head. "And I doubt that Kirikov would have trusted his safety to guards so easily fooled. No, I believe there's a third explanation: You used Dr Granger's special assets. Heavily. And, unless I'm greatly mistaken, you left witnesses alive who saw everything."

"Only Kirikov," Sirius retorted. "And he already knew or suspected that Hermione was a dimensional traveller."

"Perhaps. But there is more. You managed to escape from Russia using the very method you dismissed as too dangerous to enter the country, which almost led to Dr Granger drowning. Yet none of the scuba gear you allegedly used was seen or recovered."

"We sank them with the underwater sledge," Ginny told him.

"You don't strike me as so wasteful, Miss Weasley." Dumbledore smiled at her. "Nor as careless as to divest yourself of equipment that might save your life, should the yacht fail to arrive. But that is just one part of the puzzle. There's more, of course." He turned to address Hermione. "That you, Dr Granger, were discovered, yet your friends couldn't intervene and save you even though Mr Weasley managed to follow you while remaining hidden. The way Mr Weasley and Dr Granger walked through fire and emerged unscathed. The way you managed to infiltrate the compound in the first place." His smile turned rather ominous. "The way you carefully avoid mentioning something in your conversations, a secret of which you are all aware."

Ron kept his face impassive. Dumbledore was building up to something. He glanced at Hermione. She was putting up a good front, but he wasn't sure if it would fool Dumbledore.

"Do you know the saying 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'?" Dumbledore tilted his head slightly.

"Sir Arthur Conan Doyle wrote that for Sherlock Holmes," Hermione replied stiffly.

"Correct. And there's another quotation which I think is appropriate here," Dumbledore went on with a broad smile. "Or, rather, the reverse of it." After a moment of complete silence, he said: "'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'"

* * *

_She was panting as she ran after Ron and Harry. They had to reach the Room of Requirement. Find the last Horcrux. And destroy it. Seventh floor - quite a way up. And the stairs were acting oddly. Not surprising, after almost a year of Death Eaters running things at Hogwarts._

_She could hear screams and explosions from below. People were fighting. And dying. But they had their mission. They couldn't afford to stop to help their friends fight. This was too important._

_If she told herself that enough times, she might even believe it._

_They reached the sixth floor and stopped - there was a body in the middle of the floor. Hermione gasped - it was Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw from their year. And it was clear that she hadn't died from a quick Killing Curse - she had bled out._

"_Someone's near!" Harry hissed._

_She moved to the side, towards the wall, wand rising. Death Eaters._

"_Harry? Harry Potter?" A sniffling voice asked._

_That didn't sound like a Death Eater - but you could never be too careful. She kept her wand trained on the corner, where the voice came from._

_Two - three - students came round the corner, clinging to each other. Ravenclaws. Probably fourth- or fifth-years. "They… they killed her. We couldn't do anything."_

_Oh._

_Ron nodded at them. He even managed to smile, she noted. "Alright. We're here to help. Go to the kitchens. The elves will show you an escape tunnel. Can you cast a Disillusionment Charm?"_

_The tallest shook his head. "They took our wands. We only get them for lessons."_

_She could hear another explosion from below them and bit her lower lip. Sending them down there while they were helpless… But they couldn't take them with them. Shaking her head, she reached into her bag and pulled out their spare wands. "Take these, and be careful."_

_She looked at Ron and Harry after they'd sent the three Ravenclaws on their way. "I couldn't let them go down there defenceless," she said._

_Ron nodded, as did Harry. And Hermione felt a little better about leaving the others to fight the Death Eaters._


	27. Chapter 27: The Consequences

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 27: The Consequences**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 4th, 2005**

"Magic? Are you serious?" Sirius laughed, a little too loudly to be convincing. "Magic doesn't exist."

Not that it mattered, since Ron could see that Hermione had looked at Dumbledore for half a second with her mouth open. She might as well have confessed everything.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," the old man retorted. "Or, in this case, in our science, Dr Granger."

"How did you know about the fire?" Hermione asked. She wasn't even trying to deny it.

"My men on the yacht had the drone in the air. Thermographic images combined with enhanced pictures taken with a conventional camera showed you two walking out of a blaze without anything resembling flame-proof clothing," Dumbledore replied.

Ron had to admit that, faced with such evidence, lying about it would have been pointless.

"You had the drone up, and we had to make do with a remote-controlled toy?" Harry focused on something else.

"My helicopter was also a drone. Just a smaller one," Luna pointed out.

"You lacked the equipment and training to use the drone in the field," the old man replied calmly. "You didn't expect me to let it remain idle, did you, Mr Potter? Especially since the risk of discovery was minimal, as the successful overflights a night before the operation had proved."

"You should've told us!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Trust is, as some like to say, a two-way street."

Touché, Ron thought. Not that his sister would agree.

"That's why you had people spying on us," Harry said.

"'Trust, but verify'," Dumbledore replied. "Words to live by as a spy."

Had the man memorised an entire book of sayings and quotes? Probably, Ron thought. He had no doubt that this was all part of a carefully crafted image.

"Besides, you were well aware of the fact that the men crewing the yacht were trained agents, were you not?" Dumbledore's smile grew a little more condescending. "Although your reports from the previous missions had already confirmed that you were keeping a secret before you went on this one. After that, figuring out what you were hiding wasn't very difficult." And now he was lecturing. Dumbledore leaned back. "You aren't fools, yet you were far too eager to go on those missions even though you lacked the necessary training. That means you had good reason to expect success. Yet, if your confidence and trust were based on Dr Granger's technology, then why would you have felt the need to keep it a secret? We were already aware of her advanced technology, and to hear she would be keeping a few aces up her sleeve wouldn't have been a surprise. No, that alone wouldn't have necessitated such secrecy."

Ah. Ron frowned. Perhaps they had overdone the secrecy.

As if he had read Ron's mind, Dumbledore added: "The very fact that you were so cautious told me that it couldn't be merely another piece of technology." He steepled his fingers. "So I went back to the capture of Mr Berisha and Mr Sokolov. And while Mr Sokolov had nothing new to share, Mr Berisha had quite the tale to tell - provided one was willing to assume he hadn't been hallucinating."

"Ah." Hermione pressed her lips together, Ron saw.

The old man inclined his head in response. "And, try as I might, I couldn't find a plausible technological explanation. None that would explain your behaviour. So, I explored some rather implausible theories and decided to test one."

Ron almost groaned.

"That's why you quoted Clark," Hermione spat.

"Indeed. I could have segued into a 'miraculous escape', had your reaction not confirmed my - honestly outrageous - theory." Dumbledore spread his hands with a slow shrug. "Sometimes, a little subterfuge and a little luck are all you need."

Great. Ron sighed. And now Hermione would think it was all her fault. "And we played straight into your hands," he said.

Dumbledore tilted his head. "None of you are trained spies, Mr Weasley." He looked at the door. "With that out of the way, shall we now proceed to dessert?" He beamed at them.

Ron wanted to hit him.

At least the dessert was excellent, though it was obvious that the only ones who managed to enjoy the cake were Dumbledore and Luna. Hermione didn't eat more than one or two bites.

"Ah… making such exquisite desserts is truly an art form," the old man commented. "One of the few things the French got right. If only Gellert appreciated it as much…"

"My heart bleeds for you," Harry commented dryly.

Dumbledore seemed to find the comment amusing, but that could be an act. "Thank you, Mr Potter," he told Ron's friend. Then he turned his head to address Hermione. "Now… I believe we established that magic is real. Which would make you…?"

"I'm a witch," she said, staring straight into his eyes.

"A witch," he repeated. "That term has been used to describe a variety of people in fiction."

"A witch who used to fly on a broom, had a cat as a familiar, brewed magic potions in a cauldron and performed rituals," Hermione told him with a toothy smile. "And yes, my school uniform was a robe with a pointy hat."

Dumbledore laughed at that.

"I'm serious," she added, with a pouty scowl.

"Ah. It seems, then, that certain stereotypes are based on fact. Even if they're literally worlds apart. But… flying brooms?" The old man slowly shook his head, looking bemused.

"There's an entire broom industry, producing a variety of brooms, including specialised racing and Quidditch brooms," Hermione elaborated. "There are also flying carpets, but they were banned in Wizarding Britain, presumably after lobbying by broom makers."

"And certain things stay the same in different worlds." Once more, Dumbledore laughed. "You don't have many of those devices, do you?"

"No. If I had my full resources, things would be very different," Hermione said - once more revealing too much information, in Ron's opinion. On the other hand, Dumbledore might already have figured that out as well.

"I see. So you're limited to a few magical potions and similar devices - non-renewable resources." Dumbledore ran his hand over his short beard as if he had just come to that conclusion.

"Yes," Hermione replied in a clipped voice.

"Like the truth serum that you showed us."

"It's called Veritaserum."

"And impossible to make in this dimension, I gather." Was there a hint of reproach in his voice? Ron couldn't tell. Dumbledore also looked slightly impressed, but the man was a former spy, so that was likely a facade.

"Yes. Key ingredients do not exist in this world." Hermione looked a little contrite.

"That explains certain… questions your story raised, upon closer examination."

"Surely you understand the need for keeping secrets," Ron cut in.

Dumbledore chuckled in response. "Oh, I do, but there's also the matter of trust."

"We didn't lie to you. We merely omitted certain facts," Hermione retorted.

"Which amounted to a deception," the old spymaster replied.

"And you've been spying on us," Harry pointed out.

"Everything I promised is true. There are magical ways to prolong your life, and wizarding healthcare is better than muggle healthcare," Hermione told him.

"And would they be extended to those who are not witches or wizards? Those of us who normally only have access to, how did you refer to it, 'muggle healthcare'?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head.

"'Muggles' is one of the terms for those humans who cannot perform magic. And yes - the Wizarding World is as corrupt, or worse, than the muggle one," she said. "There won't be any problem with finding a Healer willing to sell their services."

"Provided we have anything to trade," the old man pointed out.

"Gold is valuable in both worlds," Hermione replied.

Ron suppressed a sigh. That was very dangerous information. He was certain that Dumbledore and Grindelwald would acquire copious amounts of the precious metal as soon as possible.

"How fortunate." Dumbledore beamed at her. "However, am I correct in assuming that your planned portal needs both magic and technology to work?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "So you would, in any case, have been told about magic prior to the opening of the portal."

"Albeit, I presume, without leaving a lot of time to adjust," he retorted. "Given what you have told us about the political situation in your Britain, that would have been very dangerous. They could easily invade."

"No, it wouldn't have been." Hermione shook her head. "In my dimension, the magical and muggle societies are separated. The muggles, with the exception of the families of wizards and witches and the rulers of countries, do not know that magic exists."

"Oh? You made it sound as if wizards and witches ruled the world."

"They don't. Though they strictly control knowledge about magic." Hermione pressed her lips together.

"Peculiar. Why would they hide their existence?"

"Officially, to avoid another witch hunt. And to avoid being pressed into serving the muggles." She shook her head before Dumbledore could say anything. "That, of course, is not true - almost no trained witch or wizard was killed in the witch hunts, and the idea that that the muggles could subjugate the wizards is not credible. But I wasn't able to find out the real reason that wizards went into hiding over three hundred years ago. Surviving a civil war against wizards who believe muggleborns - wizards and witches like myself, who were born to muggle parents - should be exterminated took priority."

"Ah. So magic is a mutation that breeds true?" Dumbledore asked in a deceptively mild tone.

Hermione frowned - she must have realised just what she had revealed, even if too late to prevent it. "It's complicated. There are wizards born to muggles, and muggles born to wizards."

"But those are minorities, correct?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a flat tone.

"Human nature also stays the same, then." Dumbledore sighed.

"Yes."

"Well, that answers several questions, and will likely raise additional ones," the old man said. "I'm sure we'll talk about this further in the future. But there are some quite pressing matters that we should discuss. Matters best discussed with some drinks available."

"And cake!" Luna piped up.

"And cake," Dumbledore amended with a smile.

A few minutes spent in - to Ron; Luna didn't seem to mind - strained silence later, during which tea and drinks were served, they were alone in the room once more, and Dumbledore leaned forward. "Due to Kirikov's escape, we're no longer facing a Russian oligarch or rogue spy; we have to prepare to face the considerable resources and reach of the Russian government."

"They can't exactly invade Britain," Sirius protested. "Even if they're using 'terrorists' and 'criminals', they need plausible deniability."

"President Putin is by no means reckless, but even he might decide that the ability to travel to other dimensions - or to be able to teleport - would be worth the risk of a thinly veiled intrusion on to British soil," Dumbledore told him. "And under the right circumstances, even the thinnest excuse might be accepted by the international community."

"What?" Harry shook his head. "Britain would never accept an attack by Russia on our soil!"

The old man chuckled. "Oh, some will never accept that an attack happened, no matter the evidence provided, precisely because it would appear to be a reckless as well as senseless attack. And, of course, many will not want to risk an escalation with Russia even though they might be convinced of their guilt. Even more than a decade after the Cold War ended, the danger of a conflict with Russia escalating into a nuclear war remains."

That was a sobering thought. Chilling, too. Ron took a sip from his whisky - single malt, and very expensive - but it didn't help.

"But they can't just let Russia attack Britain - otherwise, no country would be safe!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Indeed. But given a choice between accepting the lie of a criminal or terrorist attack, and retaliating against Russia and risking triggering a war, what do you think Her Majesty's Government would do?"

"They'd blame the fictional terrorists," Hermione stated. "They might even use it as an excuse to strike at some convenient targets, knowing that Russia will have to support their story."

"That's a very cynical, but not entirely impossible scenario, I'm afraid." Dumbledore himself was drinking tea, not alcohol, Ron noted. "Although I could not predict their reaction with any certainty. One fact remains, however: Should Russia decide that the prize is worth the risk, even the considerable resources of the Phoenix Gruppe wouldn't be able to stop them."

"I don't think they'll start their tanks rolling," Sirius retorted. "That would be hard to explain as a terrorist attack. The Germans and the French - hell, all of Europe - would call on NATO."

"Oh, no, perish the thought. But some of their parachute troops? Or marines? That's an entirely different scenario."

"No one would believe Spetznaz went terrorist!" Sirius shook his head emphatically.

"But no one would believe that Russia would invade Britain without a very good reason," Dumbledore said. "Our own government included."

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Do you want to tell the government about magic?"

"Not if I can help it," the old man replied with a wry grin. "Even during the Cold War, the government had trouble keeping secrets. These days? We might as well inform the press."

"I do hope that's hyperbole," Hermione said.

"Mostly, but the point remains." He sighed. "However, we might not have a choice. I am confident that our operatives can handle a Russian oligarch or two, but the Russian government itself? Phoenix Gruppe is a business, not the secret service. We cannot match their capabilities, not even if this were limited to the intelligence arena."

That was worse than Ron had expected. "Cyberpunk lied to me," he said with a forced grin.

At least Hermione snorted at his joke. But seeing Dumbledore confused, if only momentarily, was also a sort of success.

"As did Hollywood," the old man added with a chuckle.

"What about telling the government a half-truth?" Luna shrugged when everyone turned to look at her. "They already know someone is after Hermione. And they know what she's been working on. They will suspect that her research isn't just theoretical without any practical use."

"A valid point, Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore conceded. "But if I tell them that Phoenix Gruppe is financing and protecting Dr Granger, I fear Her Majesty's Government would expect more details - I have a certain reputation, in some circles."

Luna snorted in response. "Just tell them it will revolutionise nuclear physics or something. They wouldn't believe dimensional travel anyway."

"But they might believe that this could lead to an alternate power source," Hermione said.

"However, they would then expect results," the old man pointed out.

Sirius scoffed at that while he refilled his glass of brandy. "They've wasted huge sums on projects that never paid off; they won't expect results any time soon. We'd be good for at least five to ten years, perhaps even twenty."

"Especially if you foot the bill for the experiments," Hermione added with a frown.

"Indeed. It has been often said that the treasury is our forces' worst enemy." Dumbledore slowly shook his head with a bemused expression. "But while this might earn us sufficient protection to make President Putin think twice about throwing the dice, it'll also threaten our security by exposing our location."

"All we need is to remain safe until I can open a portal. Afterwards, the Russians shouldn't be a threat anymore," Hermione stated.

"Provided that the war in your world has not ended on a disastrous note. You have been very lucky so far, but luck runs out eventually."

Ron didn't like it, but he had to agree - the old man had a point.

"So we should just hide and do nothing?" Harry said with a scoff.

"In my honest opinion, you should focus on guarding Dr Granger while she finishes her project, and leave the missions in foreign countries to more deniable assets in my service," Dumbledore replied. "More expendable, too."

"That's a rather cold-blooded assessment," Sirius remarked. He sounded almost casual, but Ron saw that the older man was gripping his glass very tightly - the knuckles were turning a little pale.

"But an honest one," Dumbledore retorted. "As an officer, you should be aware of that. Unlike most of my men, you, Dr Granger, are irreplaceable. Your work is crucial to all our futures." He leaned forward, any trace of his usual smile gone. "With Russia now involved, and soon, I expect, other countries, the odds of any of you living a normal life any time in the near future without magical help are very, very slim. As long as you represent potential leverage, you will be in danger."

Ron winced. He could handle being in constant danger - hell, working for CI5 was dangerous; even before Yaxley's treason, several officers had been killed in the line of duty. But Luna? And Ginny? Luna wasn't really ready to go underground for the rest of her life, no matter what she might think. And Ginny was a professional tennis player. She couldn't just change her name and identity and continue. And the rest of their family…

He glanced at Hermione and winced even more. She was pressing her lips together and staring down at the table, and her fingers were digging into her thighs.

"It's not your fault," he told her.

"But it's my responsibility to fix this," she retorted. "None of you asked for this."

"Well…" Sirius grinned, "We kind of volunteered."

"Yes," Luna said, although in a more sombre tone than usual for her.

And Ginny looked as tense as Hermione.

"But even with help from other wizards and witches, it'll be very difficult to erase everyone's knowledge about us," Hermione told them. "And about me. Although the knowledge about this location could be erased, though rumours would remain."

"Faking your death shouldn't be too difficult, I believe," Dumbledore said. "You die, and your knowledge dies with you. And no one knows who else is working on your research. We could even leak your research data - without magic, it'll be a dead-end, would it not?"

"Yes, but… faking my death?" Hermione looked surprised. Perhaps even a little shocked.

"You want to return to your family and friends, do you not?" Dumbledore asked. "Where you don't have to hide your magic."

Hermione slowly nodded. "Yes."

And Ron clenched his teeth so he didn't say something he would regret.

* * *

"It's an obvious solution, in hindsight," Hermione said as she changed into her pyjamas with her back to him. "Once everyone knows I'm dead, you're no longer useful as leverage. And if they leak my data, you aren't of any use for whatever scraps of information you might have overheard."

Ron, lying on their bed, forced himself to nod. "Yes. Quite obvious." And she would be in her world, and he in his. Alone. "Though it might be a little more difficult than Dumbledore claimed - the Russians know you 'died' once before. They might not be fooled by another death. Even with magic helping." It was true - or, at the very least, not false. The Russians wouldn't be fooled easily. He wasn't lying. But he wasn't being honest, either. He didn't want this to work. Didn't want her to leave.

"We'd have to wipe the memories of the key people. Together with the right amount of disinformation, it might be enough," she said, slipping her top on and turning towards him.

He smiled, hoping that she wouldn't notice that he was faking it. Or that she'd think that he was afraid of the Russians - or others - coming after him. "Yeah," he managed to say. "That could work."

"But if they get desperate or think you might know something…" She winced as she joined him on the bed.

He winced at the implication of being included in the group of people she was afraid for. It was selfish. He was being selfish. She deserved to return to her family. To her friends. He knew it.

Yet he didn't want her to leave.

"We'll think of something," he told her as he wrapped his arms around her. "Tomorrow."

"Yes."

He didn't fall asleep for quite some time.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 5th, 2005**

"Good morning!"

Luna was in a good mood at breakfast. Or putting on a good act. Ron couldn't tell - he was a little bit too tired. "Morning," he mumbled as he grabbed a pot of tea. "You're in a good mood."

"I've had an idea," she said, beaming at him. "We could all move to Hermione's world."

"What?"

"Yes." She nodded while eating a piece of toast, somehow managing not to drop jam on herself or the table. "The wizards and witches there hide from the muggles, right? So, we could fill in for our counterparts. Ginny could play tennis there. And no one would be hunting us."

He kept smiling. It wasn't the worst idea he had ever heard. But it was far from perfect, either. "We don't know what happened after Hermione left."

She looked down, losing her smile. "It was only a thought."

"It's better than anything I've come up with," he said, trying to console her.

"Oh? What did you have in mind?"

Keeping Hermione here, he thought. Out loud, he said: "Nothing, really."

"Oh." She shook her head. "Perhaps Hermione will have a solution. Is she sleeping in?"

"No, I just came on ahead while she was taking a shower."

"Oh."

He nodded and drank his tea in silence.

* * *

Half an hour later, everyone was on the shore of the Black Lake, opposite the laboratory. Ron was more winded than usual during their break - they had run quite a bit faster than usual. And quite a bit more silently, too.

"So…" Luna said, lying spread-eagled in the grass and staring at the sky.

"So?" Ginny replied, pausing for a moment in her stretching exercises. _She _didn't look winded at all, of course.

"Well… are we going to talk now? There shouldn't be any bugs, and I can't see any drone surveillance either," Luna explained.

"Talk?" Harry asked.

"About last night," Luna clarified. "The spilling of the big secret. The spymaster ferreting out our ace in the hole. The whole conspiracy laid out in the open, all the cards being shuffled anew…"

"I know what you mean," Ron interrupted her. "Although we all knew that Dumbledore would be told about magic sooner or later, so the timetable has simply moved up a little."

"That's a rather… optimistic view of the situation," Hermione, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, replied. "Dumbledore now has a lot more time to react and prepare whatever course of action he chooses than I had originally planned." She sighed. "I fell for his ploy and spilled everything. Sorry."

"He got us all," Ron quickly told her. "And he still doesn't know the details about how magic works, so his knowledge is still limited."

"He knows a lot, though," Harry pointed out. Ron glared at his friend, but to no avail. "And he'll make plans."

"He doesn't know the importance of wands," Ron retorted. "He might assume Hermione is limited to magical devices and potions."

"That might not be an entirely good thing, though," Sirius said. "If he assumes that anyone can use them and that he can acquire them in trade, he might draw the wrong conclusions."

"He'll get greedy and try to secure magic for his own corporate empire. To replace the Shadow Government with himself. And possibly his friend." Luna frowned. "A spymaster won't shed his spots."

"He still needs me to operate the portal," Hermione said. "And I'm the only one who can provide him with access to magical supplies in the first place. Once I've got a wand again, it won't matter much any more, anyway."

That sounded a little too confident. "He'll have already taken precautions against magical attacks," Ron pointed out. "Contingency plans, dead man's switches, the works." The old man was one of the smartest people Ron had ever met. And one of the most dangerous as well. "You won't be able to deal with him easily."

"I'm planning to uphold my side of the bargain. But once I have a wand, there's not much he can do if he plans to renege on our agreement."

"To alter the deal," Luna cut in.

Ron chuckled. "But as Sirius said - if he isn't aware of what you can do, he might try something anyway." Hostages, for one. "And he might want to acquire his own wizards or witches," he added, glancing at Hermione.

"That's going to be hard," she replied. "Muggles can't even enter most magical areas without the help of a wizard or witch. And those willing to work for gold for a muggle might also consider simply robbing said muggle and cleaning up after themselves with magic."

"What if he wants some sperm samples to raise his own wizards and witches?" Ron asked.

"Ah…" Hermione blinked. "I'm not sure if that would work. As far as I know, no one has ever tried artificial insemination with wizards. Although if anyone had tried, they would have kept it a secret, I think."

"It doesn't have to be artificial," Ron told her. Dumbledore would probably try a variety of methods. Grindelwald certainly.

"Oh."

Everyone looked queasy at that.

"We'll have to be on our guard," Ron went on. "More than before."

And, he added silently, looking at Hermione, we have to talk about us.

* * *

"Care for a walk?"

Ron had pondered how to word the request for practically the whole day. It wasn't as if he had had much else to do. Especially not talking. At least not to Hermione.

And unlike her, he hadn't been able to bury himself in research, either. Nor fill the silence in her lab with computer signals. And the awkward talks during her rare breaks hadn't lasted more than twenty minutes when added together.

So he'd had a lot of time to perfect his pitch, so to speak. Yet when the time to ask had come after dinner, he hadn't managed anything better than a lame line. As if he were a teenager asking his crush out.

She looked at him, blinking once. Her mouth was partially open, too. For a moment, she looked afraid, then he saw her stand straighter, her lips closing, and she nodded her head, once. "Yes, I think a walk would be a good idea," she replied - in a rather stilted way.

But she had agreed to his request, which was all that mattered. "Let's go, then," he told her, nodding towards the doors of the lift.

Neither of them said anything else until they were at a random spot about a mile from the laboratory. Far enough to be safe from anyone eavesdropping. Even an old spymaster and his hand-picked men. "So…" Ron trailed off, pressed his lips together, then slowly exhaled. He had thought about what to say but had had even less success than with his opening.

"I understand," she said.

What? He blinked. What did she mean?

"I've dragged you into this. I've dragged your family into this. I didn't want to, but it's still my fault. I understand..."

What? No. He shook his head. "Stop!" He held up his hand - the one not holding the lantern he was carrying so they could see each other's faces. "It's not about that."

"What?"

Did she really think he had asked her to come out here to complain about that? Or, worse, to berate and blame her for it? "It's not your fault," he said. He chuckled. "I keep telling you that, but you don't seem to listen."

Now she was frowning. "I should have expected this. I should have let Dumbledore handle the… missions. Left you and your family to return to your lives. If I had faked my death earlier, none of you would be in any danger."

He narrowed his eyes at her in return. She was wrong. "I was involved the moment Harry and I got the mission to investigate you. And that wasn't your fault. Yaxley knew that we were on the case. If you had disappeared, he'd have come after us, suspecting that we knew more than we had told CI5." And he would've been correct.

"But…"

He shook his head. "And we wouldn't have expected him. He might've captured or killed us." Not overly likely, but not impossible either.

"That still makes me ultimately responsible. It was my research that triggered this," she retorted.

"No, what triggered this was Grey telling Kirikov about killing your counterpart - and you didn't ask to travel to this world, did you?"

"But I should have expected it! I knew my counterpart had been missing for seven years! And that the kidnappers had never been found!" She was shaking her head almost frantically. "I should've been more careful. More subtle."

"How? Your 'return' was national, even international, news. You couldn't have kept that a secret." He took a step towards her, then slowly reached out to touch her shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't change the fact that your family now can't live normal lives any more."

"Until _we_ fix things," he said, staring into her eyes. Why wouldn't she understand and accept that it wasn't her fault?

She looked away. "I didn't even tell you the truth until you almost died."

"And you saved my life," he replied. "But this isn't about that. Or my family. I asked you out here to talk about _us_."

"Oh." Once more, she blinked, surprised.

That wasn't exactly a promising reaction. But it was better than her blaming herself for everything that had gone wrong. Or… He snorted, shaking his head. "Did you honestly expect me to break up with you over this?"

He could see her flinch. "You haven't spoken to me since last night. I thought you were angry about me spilling more information to Dumbledore, but..."

He closed his eyes. "It wasn't about that."

"But you were angry about it!" She sounded almost triumphant.

"I was afraid!" he blurted out before things could go even more wrong.

She gasped. "What?"

This time, he looked away. "You'll soon be able to return to your world. To your family and friends. To..." - he wouldn't call him 'your Ron' - "...my counterpart."

"Oh."

He kept looking away, out over the lake, as the silence grew. "I'm not a wizard," he said in a low voice.

"That doesn't matter!" she retorted.

He turned back to look at her. "Doesn't it? You said it yourself: Once you have a wand, all our problems are over."

"It doesn't work like that," she told him, shaking her head. "That's about dealing with Kirikov, and, if needed, Putin and Dumbledore. Not about… us."

She didn't seem to understand. "You can easily fit into my world. But would I be able to fit into your world?"

Her silence was answer enough.

He nodded. "I don't want to lose you." Not to the other Ron, not to the other world.

"You know I have to return. They think I'm dead. They might need my help."

"And your parents are there," he added.

"Yes. If things haven't gone completely wrong," she said.

"Yes."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with me being a witch before," she said after a moment.

"I don't have a problem with that," he replied. "But a whole world of wizards and witches? And me without any magic?" He didn't want to be useless.

She didn't have an answer to that.

Ron shook his head, snorting despite himself. It wasn't funny, but he couldn't cry.

Hermione bit her lower lip, then started to say something without making a sound, all the while shaking her head. Finally, she took a deep breath. "I understand."

He doubted it, but he didn't seem to be able to find the words to explain himself any better.

"I understand." She was blinking rapidly, he noticed. "But I can't abandon my friends or my parents. Not after years of having them think I was dead and gone."

If they were still alive. But Ron didn't say that.

"And I can't give up magic!" she blurted out.

"I'm not asking you to give up magic," he retorted. "_Never_."

"But you're asking me to give up my world?" She was still blinking - her eyes were wet - but she sounded reproachful.

He shook his head. "I'm asking you not to give up mine."

"Oh."

She looked very cute when she was surprised.

He nodded. Perhaps she finally understood.

"But that was never in question!" She didn't quite yell, but she came close. "Did you expect me to destroy the portal and forget about it? About you?" He winced, and she frowned at him. "Why would you think that?"

Ron knew that 'because I'm insecure, not a wizard and it happens in stories' wouldn't be a good answer, even if it was the truth. "Would your world tolerate muggles knowing about magic?" Like himself.

"Oh." She looked taken aback for a moment, then shook her head. "I won't tell them about you."

"Do you think you can keep the discovery of dimensional travel a secret? How will you explain where you were for the past seven years?" And where Ron came from.

"I've kept more important secrets," she replied.

"For how long?"

Once more, she bit her lower lip. Then she closed her eyes and sighed. "Merlin's beard, it'll be the same there as here! They'll want the portal."

Right. He hadn't thought about that, but, in hindsight, it was obvious. Worlds without magic, defenceless in the face of a few wizards? It would be Cortez come again. Whatever kept wizards from ruling Hermione's world might not apply to other worlds. "They'll go after your friends and family there."

"I'll... I'll need a cover story. Something that explains the missing years. Not for my friends and family. But for the Ministry. If it still stands. Something that won't draw too much attention. Something that would be easily explained."

"You lost your memory and were found by muggles somewhere far away?" Ron proposed. "And now you've suddenly recovered your memory and returned to Britain." It had worked for Jason Bourne, hadn't it?

"I'm muggleborn," she said. "I'm a British citizen. How likely would it be that no one had managed to identify me in years?"

"Easier than you think," he told her. "It depends on who found you, and under what circumstances. The authorities might not even have been notified about you. People fall through the cracks all the time."

"That's… The implications… I don't want everyone to think I was a victim of muggle criminals!" She shook her head.

"Being mistaken for an illegal immigrant isn't that bad," he retorted.

"But…"

"Besides, it was just a proposal. Spur of the moment," he told her. "We can think of something better." She wouldn't finish her project that soon, anyway.

"Yes."

Once more, they remained silent for several seconds. Then she took a step closer to him. Close enough to touch him if she took another step. Or reached out with her arm. "So…"

"So…" He wet his lips, suddenly unsure what to say. 'We good?' would make him sound like an idiot. But not saying anything would be stupid, too.

"Let's go back?" She sounded almost timid.

But when he nodded, she hugged him. Tightly.

They hadn't resolved all of their issues. But, Ron thought later, as they were headed back to the laboratory, they were back where they had been before yesterday.

He could live with that. For now.

* * *

_She rolled off him and lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as she slowly stopped panting. A moment later, she felt his arm wrap around her shoulders, pulling her towards him, into his side._

_For a while, neither of them said anything. They just lay there, enjoying the moment. At least she did._

_Then the guilt returned. Harry was alone in the other room. He hadn't said anything - well, he had smiled and joked, and he knew what they were doing - but it was unfair to him. He was alone, and it had been weeks since they had last met up with Ginny. What would he be thinking about her and Ron?_

_In his place, she'd be jealous. Envious, she corrected herself. It was unfair._

_But to deny themselves this happiness when they might die tomorrow? Or the day after?_

"_No," she whispered. She'd break under the stress._

"_Hm?"_

"_Nothing," she said. "Just thinking out loud."_

"_You're always thinking," he told her. "Relax."_

"_OK," she lied. She knew that she couldn't. Not for long._

_And she didn't think Ron or Harry could either. Not with the way the war was going._

_They had to find the last Horcruxes. Before it was too late._

_If it wasn't already._


	28. Chapter 28: The Ritual

Once more, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 28: The Ritual**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 6th, 2005**

"There's one positive result of the whole debacle," Hermione commented as she connected another power cable to the quantum mirror cage.

"Hm?" Ron, checking - again - that the power was off, made the expected sound of inquiry when she didn't continue right away.

"I can start using magic in my experiments earlier than planned," she said. "Ah, finally!" She stood, dusting off her pants with a few pats, then stretched.

"Ah." Ron nodded.

"That means I can progress faster than I'd previously anticipated," she explained. "I can check the interaction between quantum physics and magic as I develop both parts."

"Ah." That sounded logical. "So you're going to do rituals here?"

"Yes."

He made a point at looking at the bare concrete floor, then at the machines and computers nearby.

"I still need to set it up - I wasn't exactly prepared for this development," she said, then frowned when she caught him grinning. "Oh, you!"

He chuckled. "Sorry."

"No, you're not."

He changed the subject. "So, you're doing a ritual." Which could be done without a wand. "How long will that take?"

"A few hours to set one up, a few more hours to conduct it. And a few weeks - at least - to create it."

"Ah. Have you created other rituals?"

"Not in this world," she replied, walking over to him and taking a seat on the bench next to him. "But it was a part of Arithmancy in school."

"So you did useful stuff in class, at least. We only ever did experiments and projects that had already been done long ago." He looked at her.

"Well, magic is dangerous, so we had strict limits and parameters. But we didn't just follow a recipe; we could design our own rituals. Most turned out to have been done before, though."

"Most?" He tilted his head a little.

She nodded. "A few were failures - one was a spectacular one. The student, Sue Li, spent three weeks in the infirmary."

"And yours?"

She grimaced. "I picked the optimal formula. Of course, that meant that someone else had done so before."

"So this is your first ritual?" He tried not to sound as sceptical as he felt.

"No. I've performed other rituals before, as proofs of concept," she replied.

"To prove that magic works?"

"Yes." She pressed her lips together, so he didn't prod further, but it was clear that she was in uncharted territory. Well, they had already known that.

"Well, first I have to test the physics." She stood and walked back to her computers.

He watched the cage, but there was no micro-portal forming. She was probably just testing the power flow or something, so he pulled out a novel from the bag next to him and started to read.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 7th, 2005**

"We're going to do what?" Ron asked.

"Scrub the floor," Hermione told him. So he hadn't misheard her.

"For the magic ritual?" he guessed.

"Exactly!"

"Could contamination by dirt and dust ruin it?" Weren't rituals supposed to have been used before wands were invented? A few thousand years ago, people didn't have sterile environments, did they?

"Dirt and dust can affect the ritual circle," she answered. "Minimally, unless they actually cover up a rune, but it might influence the results."

In other words, this was mostly her being a perfectionist. And, of course, she couldn't let the trained staff do this because she didn't want them in her lab. Ron nodded anyway. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do, with the rest of their group training in the woods again.

An hour later, the laboratory was spotless. Reasonably spotless, anyway. If Hermione managed to claim there was still too much dust, Ron would mop her desk. Without removing her notes first.

"Alright, this should suffice. Time to prepare the ritual circle now!"

Now this was interesting. Magic. Runes. Rituals.

Ron took a step closer to where Hermione was kneeling and using precision machinery to mark a circle on the floor with chalk. "I guess you can't just write it on a carpet and unroll it when you need, then."

"You probably could. But it would be wasteful while developing the ritual since I'll be changing the set-up every time I do it anyway."

"Ah. And it could be stolen as well." Unless stored in her bag.

"Yes." She wasn't looking at him, but at the floor, where she was already tracing a symbol - a rune. And with obvious care and caution.

Ron looked at the chalk circle, then at the symbol, and sighed. It would take hours to complete it. Well, she had told him that, but still…

This was going to be another long day.

* * *

"And done!"

Ron looked up from his novel. "Already?"

She snorted. "It's past time for lunch. That must be a captivating story," she said, nodding at his book, "if you didn't notice the time passing."

"It is." He held it up for her.

"'Old Man's War'?"

"It's about an old man fighting various aliens in a gene-engineered young body," Ron explained as he got up. "A strong transhumanist theme, too. His new body has cat-like eyes and green skin, for example. So, you've got alien-looking soldiers fighting alien species to protect humanity." She winced, and he frowned. "Not to your taste? It's not glorifying war if that's what you're afraid of."

"It's not about that. But after a potion mishap, I was once stuck as a half-cat for several weeks."

He blinked. "A half-cat?"

She frowned, then replied: "A human body, but with fur, a tail, cat's eyes and ears, whiskers…"

A catgirl then. "Sounds cute," he said.

"I didn't feel cute. I was so glad when Matron Pomfrey finally managed to restore my body." She shook her head. "Worst case of body dysmorphic disorder you can imagine."

"Ah." She definitely wouldn't enjoy transhumanist stories, then. Or some Marvel comics. Not to mention a lot of manga and anime.

Well, Ron thought as they left the lab for lunch, I've always been fond of the classic science fiction novels, anyway.

He still wondered how she'd looked as a catgirl, though.

* * *

After lunch, Hermione re-checked the ritual circle. "Just in case someone smudged part of it," she told him.

"I guess that would be bad?" he asked, tilting his head to study the runes on the outermost part of the circle.

"Yes."

"How bad? All the ingredients and time wasted bad? Or getting cursed or killed bad?"

"The latter," she replied, moving to the inner line of runes.

He took a step back. Ron didn't want to be stuck as a half-cat or half-something in a world without wizards and witches experienced in dealing with such mishaps. "I see."

"Rituals are dangerous," she said, "if they aren't prepared properly. Or if you make a mistake."

"Well, I'm not doing the ritual," Ron said, grinning.

She flinched a little, though. "Right."

Oh. He almost sighed, but that would have made it worse. "So… what exactly is the ritual going to do?"

"It's going to create a modified Extension Charm, for testing," she said.

"Ah." Like her bag?

"It won't last long, but that doesn't matter - it's the spatial distortion effect I need."

He chuckled. "Spatial distortion? That sounds like Star Trek."

She rolled her eyes. "It's magic, not fiction."

He chuckled some more, which resulted in her frowning at him.

"Well, I know now that magic is real," he said. "But it still sounds funny if you contrast it with fiction."

"Oh." After a moment, she laughed as well, shaking her head. "I guess it does."

But she grew serious quickly - a little too quickly - and focused on her work again. On magic. On another step on the road back to her own world.

Away from him.

Ron forced himself to keep smiling. He really wanted to see the ritual, the magic. And he knew it was necessary - the best way, perhaps the only way, for him and his family to return to a normal life.

Yet part of him, a selfish, ugly part of himself, still hoped that she would fail. And he hated himself for it.

"Does it check out?" he asked as soon as she rose from where she was kneeling on the floor.

"Yes." She nodded slowly. "I can start the ritual. Ensure that no one damages the circle or disturbs me."

"Disturbs you?" He glanced at the door. It was locked, but would that be enough?

"Touching, pushing, yelling - in short, distracting me," she explained.

"Should I leave?" he asked, only half in jest.

"No." Her answer came quickly. "Stay," she added with a smile.

That made him feel good. Really good. He sat down on the bench. Far enough, he hoped, if things went wrong.

She started by placing candles at regular intervals around the circle. Followed by small ceramic cups. To burn ingredients, or to catch blood? She had mentioned blood magic, once. But she would have said something it if she planned to cut herself, wouldn't she? To warn him, at least.

When she placed several dried leaves in each cup, he felt a little foolish.

Then she dropped her lab cloak, slipped out of her shoes, and sat down, cross-legged, in the centre of the circle. "It'll take a few hours," she said. "Roughly three, I expect, but…" She grimaced. "I've been wrong before."

He nodded, which made her frown deepen. "Just be careful," he told her.

"Of course."

Then she closed her eyes and started chanting.

Ron didn't understand her words. They sounded a little like Latin, but not quite. At least in his opinion - he wasn't a linguist, and his knowledge of Latin was mostly related to that alternate history series he had read as a teenager.

But she was very focused, and her voice sounded deeper than usual. Weirder. And while it was probably just his imagination, Ron thought he could feel a growing tension in the air as the ritual continued.

A little later, he knew he wasn't imagining it - the hairs on his arms and on the nape of his neck were standing up. Static electricity - or magic - was building up. He wet his lips. Perhaps this bench wasn't a safe distance away. Perhaps nothing in the room was, if Hermione made a mistake. Well, she shouldn't. He knew her.

Although... he had never seen her like this - her hair was moving, more and more strands escaping her ponytail and floating around her head in a gust of wind that only seemed to affect her.

Magic. He had seen magic before - Hermione's beaded bag of holding. He had drunk potions, too. Several times. But this was something else. He could see and feel the magic being worked.

Suddenly, a candle lit up. Ron hadn't seen Hermione even so much as glance at it. It had just started burning.

Another one followed suit. And another. A few minutes later, all the candles were burning. Had the room grown darker in the meantime, too? It seemed like it, though the lamps were still shining brightly.

He took a deep breath, then gasped softly. Incense. That was burning incense. But where… there. There was a weak trail of smoke rising from one of the cups. That hadn't been the case a few minutes ago. But to fill the room, to reach him, quite a bit away from the circle...

He spotted another smoking cup. And smelt slightly different incense. Ah.

Hermione's eyes were closed now - she was mumbling rather than chanting - but one by one, smoke started to rise from all the cups. Even though... He checked his watch and gasped. An hour had passed already? He could've sworn…

He took another breath, but a shallow one. The air smelt and felt like smoke. If Hermione had to cough, would that ruin the ritual? She was sitting in the middle of all the cups, so she would be affected the most. Should be, he corrected himself. Perhaps she had taken precautions to deal with the smoke. Or the ritual protected her.

Ron didn't really care which was true, as long as she was safe and could continue the ritual without making a mistake and cursing both of them. Or worse - if this 'Extension Charm' twisted space, then what would it do to humans caught in the area of effect? Something like the theorised effect of a black hole?

Ron really didn't want to find out the hard way. Hermione's hair was now a halo. Or a whirlwind. It was whipping back and forth around her head, with visible sparks running up and down the strands. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.

She was also chanting loudly again. And the candles were half-burned already. Although it didn't seem like the various cups would stop smoking any time soon. If anything, the air was getting thicker. If there were any hallucinogens in that incense… Well, he didn't have to worry about drug tests any more, did he?

Something moved inside the circle. Ron was standing and aiming his gun before he realised that it was a spark tracing a rune in the inner circle. If things kept to form, then there would soon be dozens of them covering the various runes.

As expected, more and more sparks appeared, lighting up the runes. First in the inner circle, then in the outer circle. And Hermione was covered by them - that her clothes hadn't caught fire yet was a miracle.

Ron eyed the fire extinguisher in the corner next to him. It would certainly 'distract' her, with potentially disastrous consequences. But so would burning. What could he do? Other than hoping that nothing would go wrong?

Not much, he answered his question. He couldn't do magic.

But, he added as he watched Hermione slowly stand up, looking like she was caught in a dry thunderstorm, he'd do his best anyway.

Hermione's voice grew louder and louder. She was now screeching - Ron had trouble making out individual words. And the sparks seemed to jump from rune to rune, and from rune to her clothes. And hair.

She'd have a devil of a time fixing her hair after this. He chuckled, despite not wanting to, at the stray thought before he froze at the sight of her arms rising above her head, fingers twitching. He wanted to check his watch, see how much time had passed, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.

She looked as if she was in a trance. Her eyes were closed, and she was yelling incoherently, but she was moving her body with grace and - or so he thought - the utmost precision. Her arms froze for a moment, then she whipped them downwards.

And the room changed.

Suddenly, Ron was in the middle of a giant space. It looked as if he had been shrunk again and left behind. But the bench was still the same size, and so was the door. It was just everything else that had been… enlarged. Stretched. Blown up. He couldn't tell.

A moment later, everything was back to normal. And Hermione collapsed in the centre of the circle, coughing.

"Hermione!"

Ron rushed forward but stopped before he stepped over... entered the circle. What if the ritual was still active? And if he broke the circle…

She looked at him. "Can you turn up the air conditioning? I didn't expect the incense to be this bad." She coughed again. "Merlin's beard! I should have expected this!"

Oh. "Sure." He turned around, relieved - and a little amused. Half a minute later, he had the air conditioning up and running. "I hope that this doesn't get sent into the rest of the building," he commented as he rejoined her.

"It shouldn't," she replied, still holding a hand in front of her mouth. "That would be very shoddy construction."

And Ron doubted that Dumbledore would accept substandard work on such an important project. On the other hand, mistakes happened.

"Well, the test was a success," she stated, then tried to stand on visibly shaking legs.

Ron took a step closer but hesitated again. "The ritual's over, then?"

"What?" She looked confused. "Oh, yes. It's safe to smudge the runes now."

He still tried to avoid stepping on the runes as he took her arm to steady her. "I'll take your word for it."

"Once I have the ritual ready, I might make a more permanent circle," she said. "It might not be practical to use for a portal otherwise."

"Except as a trap," Ron pointed out as they made their way over to her desk.

She frowned and stopped walking for a moment. "It would be a very obvious trap. And it wouldn't work without me performing a ritual."

"Right." He pressed his lips together. Obviously, he hadn't thought that through. "I blame the incense for my momentary lapse of judgement," he said with a grin.

That made her wince a little. "I should be safe," she said. "Though there have never been any studies about whether there are any effects of the incense used in magic rituals on bystanders."

"Never?" He let her go and sit down in her seat.

"Rituals aren't very common," she explained. "Some call them a dying art. And wizards don't really do many studies as a rule. At least not in accordance with scientific standards."

"Really?"

"Most experiment by themselves." She started checking several columns of data on her computer.

"That sounds a little… careless," Ron remarked.

"It is. But then, many wizards do seem to be quite reckless. A result of magic being able to easily deal with most wounds caused by accidents, I think," Hermione said with a snort. "You should've seen what my Harry and Ron got up to as first-years."

Ron shook his head. Hermione wasn't exactly overly cautious, in his opinion. What would she consider to be reckless? Just how bad was his counterpart? "What did they do? And how often were you involved?"

She blushed in response. "I usually tried to save them from themselves."

"'Usually'?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Sometimes," she said, raising her head and sniffing, "decisive action is required in a situation."

Ron snorted. After a moment, both of them laughed.

"I wasn't involved in all of their adventures," she said, shaking her head. "Especially not when it involved dodging cannonballs on brooms."

Ah, the wizard game played on brooms. He tilted his head. "But you were involved in most, weren't you?" he asked against his better judgement.

"Yes." She smiled, and he could see her eyes losing their focus as she reminisced about her past. And her wizard friends - like Ron's counterpart.

She looked so happy and sad at the same time.

* * *

"Hermione, it's time for dinner."

"In a moment."

"You said that five minutes ago," Ron pointed out.

"Mh." She wasn't even looking at him - her eyes seemed glued to the screen.

He shook his head and leaned closer until his lips were right next to her ear. "Hermione! You need to eat!" he snapped.

She gasped, startled, and he had to dodge her swinging ponytail as she whirled to glare at him. "Hey!"

He pointed at the clock on the wall. "It's past time for dinner. And no, you won't eat an MRE here."

"But…" she glanced at the screen.

"The data won't get corrupted while you eat," he told her. "Come on! Let's tell the others all about your breakthrough."

"It's not exactly a breakthrough," she corrected him. "It was merely a proof of concept. And it worked exactly as expected."

"Yes," he agreed. "But it's the first step towards combining magic and quantum physics, right?"

"The first step was the hypothesis," she objected. "This is merely an experiment." But she was walking with him, leaving the lab.

Success.

* * *

"...and that was a proof of concept. Now I have to modify the ritual and then combine it with the quantum mirror cage." Hermione finished her explanation about the same time as she finished everything on her plate. This time, the fare had been Italian, with a pasta buffet and a variety of sauces for the main course.

"How long will that take?" Ginny asked. She sounded casual, but Ron wondered if she wasn't getting sick of having to hide - her ranking was tanking, as a certain newspaper had put it last week.

"That's hard to say. The physics part is, except for the scaling up and the adjustments needed to combine it with magic, mostly done. But I'll have to extensively test the ritual and refine it - I was focused on the physics until now," Hermione explained.

"For good reason," Ron added, to remind his sister, just in case, why they were hiding here.

"Do you have a rough estimate of how long you'll take?"

Ron refrained from telling his sister that she sounded like Dumbledore.

"A few weeks to a few months?" Hermione shrugged, once. "Magic isn't easy to predict. Nor is research."

"Can we see the next ritual?" Luna asked, beaming at Hermione.

Ron saw her wince as she replied: "It's a very delicate experiment, and somewhat dangerous."

"If Ron survived it, then we should be safe," Ginny said. He frowned at her, but she smiled sweetly at him in return.

And Hermione chuckled. "As long as you don't touch anything - magic is dangerous, especially rituals. Mistakes can be fatal. Or worse."

Ginny looked slightly taken aback, Ron noted, but Luna seemed even more eager to watch the next ritual. He would have to check with Hermione whether a muggle trying a ritual was safe. Double-check, to be safe. "So, what did you do today?" he asked, to change the subject.

"Oh! I worked with drones!" Luna turned to smile at him. "Mr Dumbledore provided me with the latest models available on the market. I've been testing them, to set up a surveillance network."

"A surveillance network?" Harry asked.

"Yes, to cover the entire area around the laboratory," she replied. "I'm working on the drones as the mobile part."

"Won't that attract attention?" Hermione asked.

"Air traffic control might notice," Sirius added.

"Not if they only fly low," Luna said. "But with any luck, we'll be using small models which won't show up amongst the ground clutter. I'm still testing them."

"You said that those were the mobile part. What about the immobile part?" Ron asked.

"Ah, there's a sensor network already in place, though it has a couple of blind spots," Luna told him. "As we expected, they couldn't cover the entire forest."

"Hence the drones," Sirius said.

"Exactly," Luna replied, nodding emphatically.

"But you've got access to the entire surveillance network?" Harry cocked his head as he asked her the question.

"Well, to the one Mr Dumbledore showed me. I'm sure that he has at least two more - though I haven't found them yet," Luna replied.

"Two more?" Harry blinked.

"Yes, one serving as a decoy, for when I look for it, and then the real one he uses to keep tabs on us." Luna shook her head as if that was an obvious conclusion. "And he might have a fourth, to fool the Shadow Government's surveillance of him."

Ron slowly nodded. He didn't think Dumbledore had three, much less four, surveillance networks in the area. Two, though? The old man would keep an ace up his sleeve, Ron was sure of that. And he was a spymaster. Not to mention that a second surveillance network was just good planning - if one was compromised, you still had another while your enemy might think they were in the clear. Of course, the sort of enemies Dumbledore - and now Ron and his friends - were dealing with would expect that. So, perhaps, Luna wasn't wrong… "And what did you do?" he asked the others.

"We trained," Harry said. He didn't seem to be happy, in Ron's opinion. Well, Ron wasn't looking forward to weeks or months of inactivity, either.

But if it meant Hermione and the others were kept safe?

He'd do a lot more for that.

Then dessert was served - tiramisu - and Luna's gleeful reaction distracted everyone.

She really liked her sweets.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 9th, 2005**

Ron frowned when he and the others returned from a long run around the lake. There weren't more guards or visibly increased security, but the guards at the door were just a little bit more attentive than usual. "Dumbledore's back," he said.

"Really?" Ginny asked.

"How do you know?" Hermione added.

"The guards are acting as if there's going to be an inspection," Harry explained.

"Yes. And do they need regular inspections!" Sirius commented. "What a sorry lot."

Luna, meanwhile, was checking her portable computer. Ron looked over her shoulder and saw that she was flipping through several recordings. "If he's on any recordings, then it's because he wanted to be," he told her.

"I know. But that's information by itself," Luna replied. "And it would be terribly impolite to ignore it if he took care to let himself be filmed."

Ron chuckled at that. "I guess so."

"Found him!" she exclaimed. "He arrived ten minutes after we left for our run."

"And I guess we will still have to wait until dinner to hear his new information," Harry said.

Ron glanced at Ginny and saw she was wincing. She would already know, of course, that Harry was getting impatient. "It's better to discuss things and plan on a full stomach," Ron said. Hungry people were more aggressive.

"Yes! And we need to shower anyway," Luna said, sniffing her shoulders before nodding emphatically.

Harry had the grace to blush, but he was still grumbling when they entered their quarters and split up to shower.

* * *

As they had expected, Dumbledore didn't start talking about anything more important than the weather, sports and entertainment before dessert was served. To Ron's surprise, Harry didn't broach the subject himself, though. Probably Ginny's influence - Harry was an old hand at sounding off to others, especially to their superiors.

Of course, whether or not Dumbledore counted as their superior was somewhat uncertain. As was the question of whether or not the old man thought he was or should be.

Ron dropped that line of thought as Dumbledore finished his dessert, to all appearances looking incredibly pleased at the taste of the tiramisu, and put down his spoon. "Now, I assume you have a good idea why I've come to visit."

"You want to see magic happen!" Luna replied before anyone else could say anything.

Chuckling, the old man inclined his head towards her. "That influenced my decision as well, although I also bring you news from Russia."

"And it's not good news," Harry said.

"I would say that the exact nature of the news is still in question," Dumbledore replied, "due to a lack of further information. Although I expect we'll soon know more, one way or the other." He pulled out a memory stick from the inside pocket of his jacket - Ron wondered if that was just for show, or if he really carried sensitive intel there - and placed it on the table.

Harry reached for it, but, once again, Luna was faster and grabbed it. "Let's see what you brought us!" she said, apparently not aware of Harry's frown, as she plugged it into her portable computer.

Dumbledore chuckled again, and his smile grew, as far as Ron could tell, more honestly amused. "Thank you."

"Thank you," she replied, already opening and closing several windows.

"Let me summarise," Dumbledore said. "We haven't seen neither hide nor hair of Mr Kirikov, but according to our analysts, and some of my former co-workers, there has been a shake-up in the Russian intelligence services. Now," he went on, "after the 'invasion by terrorists', as some news reports have taken to calling our little mishap in southern Russia, didn't lead to any arrests, it's to be expected that a few officers will be let go. To encourage those who remain to be luckier, I assume - it wasn't as if they were at fault. However, such a shake-up could also conceal a reshuffle inside the FIS or the creation of supposedly unattached 'former assets'."

"Do you think they're building up for a mission against us?" Sirius asked.

"I think we cannot dismiss that as a possible threat," the old spymaster replied. "Unfortunately, there is scant confirmed information, least of all actionable intelligence, available, so all I can offer are educated guesses."

"Or gut instincts," Harry said.

"Quite." Again, Dumbledore nodded. "And even in the best case - President Putin not believing Mr Kirikov's claim and blaming him for the incident and the resulting loss of face the Russian government has suffered - I have no doubt that he would go to some lengths to keep us guessing whether or not Mr Kirikov is still alive. And even if he dismisses the possibility of alternate universes, my own involvement, which he will have confirmed by now, will convince him that I consider your research extremely valuable."

"So all we can do is wait?" Harry asked with a scoff.

"And prepare for an attack," Dumbledore corrected him. "If the Russians are indeed moving against us, they will be faced with several logistical challenges as well as running a significant risk of facing a political backlash of international dimensions." He smiled, but it looked rueful. "I also have some news about the continuing mole hunt within the Phoenix Gruppe: A suspected mole has, apparently, committed suicide a day ago in Berlin."

Oh. "An actual suicide?" Ron asked.

"That is hard to tell at this point. Contrary to their reputation, not every one of Germany's coroners is as methodical and careful as their duties would require. And far less quick to finish their reports. So far, Gellert has refrained from using more direct means to acquire their files, though."

"Swell," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "At least I take it the mole didn't know anything about us?"

"They shouldn't have known anything, although our own investigation is still ongoing. But if the Russians are behind this, then it'll be difficult to expose them. They are very good at this sort of game."

Ron pressed his lips together. This wasn't a game. People were dying.

"Of course, they aren't unbeatable - I know that better than most, I believe. I've taken steps to create decoy sites to divert their attention, and a select few people in my employ are preparing missions to further distract them," the old man went on.

"How dangerous are those missions?" Hermione asked.

"Not any more dangerous than the missions you've undertaken, Dr Granger."

"That's not very reassuring," she retorted, frowning.

"As long as they're not suicide missions," Ron added, tilting his head to turn the statement into a question.

"I can assure you that everyone involved knows the risks, Mr Weasley, even though precious few of my operatives will know anything about the reasons behind their orders."

"But they know whatever disinformation you fed them," Harry said.

Dumbledore didn't deny that as he nodded at Ron's friend.

"Won't the Russians expect this?" Luna asked.

"They will indeed suspect such a ploy - they suspect everyone and everything - but they nevertheless cannot ignore it. Not that they would," Dumbledore replied with a sly smile.

The old man sounded almost nostalgic, in Ron's opinion. Re-living his best years, perhaps? He snorted.

"And what if the Russians have another mole in your organisation?" Ginny asked.

"He's probably using this plan to hunt for such moles," Luna answered before Dumbledore could. "If he spreads information about selected decoy sites and missions to suspicious employees, he can find the moles." She scrunched her nose and frowned as she added: "But it'll put his loyal employees at risk."

"As I said," Dumbledore repeated himself, "my employees know the risks."

"That feels like cold comfort," Luna told him.

"Well, some of your employees certainly wouldn't be missed," Sirius cut in. "Except by various police forces, of course."

That got a chuckle out of the old spymaster. "While I have standards and would never work with the sort of people with whom Kirikov used to work, there is a saying: 'Set a thief to catch a thief'. Certain backgrounds can be very useful in this business."

"Wellington would probably agree, eh?" Sirius shook his head. "You cannot trust criminals."

"I've found that every man has a price, Mr Black," Dumbledore replied. "Something or someone they value above everything and everyone else. Criminals might be more selfish but, with proper handling, are no more likely to betray you than your best friend."

Ron wasn't the only one to glare at the old man in response to that claim.

"I'd never betray my friends!" Luna exclaimed.

"Not even if it meant saving your father's life?" Dumbledore asked.

"Daddy wouldn't want me to betray my friends to save him - I would also be betraying everything that he taught me if I did that." Luna's frown grew more pronounced, but she still looked like she was pouting as she faced Dumbeldore. "Not everyone has a price!"

The old spymaster slowly nodded. "Perhaps I stand corrected. I hope we'll never find out."

But he didn't sound as if he believed his own words. On the other hand, that might just be a deliberate act.

"What about setting the Secret Service on the Russians?" Ginny asked.

"MI6," Harry corrected her.

"You know what I mean," she retorted.

"A tempting option, I have to agree," Dumbledore acknowledged, rubbing his beard. "However, while I wouldn't cast doubt on my former colleagues' skill and experience, I fear that they would expend as much or even more effort on uncovering the Russians' objectives in Britain as on countering them."

"While I don't doubt that the British government would be preferable by far to the Russian one, I fear I would end up a prisoner either way," Hermione said. "Based on past experiences with said government, they would be as likely to shut down my research as to try and abuse it to revive colonialism."

"I think you are on the mark, based on my experience as a former government employee," Dumbledore told her with a wry smile. "Although I also expect MI6's best and brightest to pick up on any suspicious activity among the Russians. Sooner or later, at least."

"At which point they'll investigate themselves and find out about us anyway." Hermione shook her head. "Damned if we do, damned if we don't?"

Dumbledore cocked his head. "Quite. I think our best hope to avoid such entanglements is a timely breakthrough in your research."

Hermione pressed her lips together before replying. "Such research cannot be rushed. A single mistake could be disastrous."

"In that case, we can but hope for you to get lucky, then," the old man said.

"No pressure, huh?" Ron asked with a scoff.

"I've suffered worse," Hermione told him.

And Ron saw her eyes lose their focus.

* * *

_She heard screams as she ran through the familiar hallways. Distant screams, but that was a faint consolation when she knew all too well what those screams meant: People - students, children - dying under the Death Eaters' curses. Hearing the sounds of desperate, bloody battles filling the school made her feel like a coward for not joining the ranks of their allies._

_But they couldn't. Their own mission was too important. If they failed, all the deaths and suffering would have been in vain. Voldemort would win._

_And she wouldn't let that monster win._

_She was breathing heavily by the time they reached the tapestry with the dancing trolls on the seventh floor._

"_Let me do it!" Harry snapped, rushing ahead._

_She clenched her teeth but stopped. The Room of Requirement tended to get confused if multiple people needed something - even if they thought they needed the same thing, the Room usually disagreed._

_Granted, she didn't think that that would be a problem this time. All of them wanted the exact same thing: to find Voldemort's last Horcrux. But still, why take the risk?_

_Harry finished passing the tapestry three times, and a door appeared. He looked at them, a faint smile on his face before he winced. "Let's go."_

_She nodded, biting her lower lip several times as she followed him, Ron at her side, into the Room. _

_It was worse than she had expected - the room seemed to be larger than the Great Hall, and it was full of all sorts of stuff. "Can you sense it?" she asked Harry._

"_With Voldemort so close? No," he told her. "The moment I open my mind, he'll know where we are."_

"_You'll have to do the ritual," Ron told her._

_She looked at him - he was guarding the door - and nodded. _

"_And hurry," he went on. "I think some of the fighting's moving towards us."_


	29. Chapter 29: The Family Reunion

As always, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 29: The Family Reunion**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 11th, 2005**

Despite her words, Hermione wasn't handling the pressure very well. At least not in Ron's opinion. She was tense, far more so than she usually was, anyway. Despite the effort they had made to relax last night - and wasn't that a euphemism which wouldn't fool anyone? Even Aunt Muriel wouldn't be taken in by it. Especially not Aunt Muriel, actually, since the old battleaxe always suspected the worst of everyone and was more old-fashioned than anyone else Ron knew.

He gritted his teeth as he saw Hermione biting her lower lip and scowling at her computer in apparent frustration. No, that wasn't the face of someone handling pressure well. Quite the opposite.

He rose from the bench and started to walk towards her, giving the area around the quantum mirror cage an even wider berth than usual - he didn't want to cross the 'ritual space' as he had dubbed the spot where Hermione had drawn her circle. "Hey!"

She jerked, then looked up. "What?"

"Time for a break?"

"It's not yet time," she pointed out after a quick glance at the clock on her screen. "And I've got a lot of work to do today."

"Another ritual?" he asked.

"Not yet. I need to make quite extensive adjustments to the formula. Not before dinner, at the earliest." She was already staring at the screen again.

He suppressed his own scowl. This needed a lighter touch. "Tomorrow then. You wouldn't risk a ritual when you're tired, would you?" That came out a little more pleading than he liked.

"I've done rituals under worse conditions," she replied, setting her jaw.

He sat down on the edge of her desk, first displacing a few of her notes with his hand. She tensed up some more, pressing her lips together, though, apart from a glance at the notes, she kept studying the columns of data on her computer screen.

"There's no need to push yourself like this." He leaned forward a little, towards her. He was telling the truth - this was going too far. And it was Dumbledore's fault. The old spymaster knew how to manipulate her, and was willing to exploit that without scruple.

"You know why I have to do this," she replied, still not looking at him.

"No."

_That_ made her look at him, her mouth half-open. "What?"

"You told me that you can't rush things." She was about to contradict him, but he continued without giving her an opportunity to respond. "You said rituals are dangerous. That even a single mistake could be fatal. That means every time you perform one when you're not at your best, you're putting everyone in danger since you're more likely to make a mistake."

She closed her mouth and pressed her lips together. "If I take too long, I'm also putting everyone in danger," she said after a moment.

"We've got a better chance of handling an attack by Russian agents than a magical mishap," he retorted. "Dumbledore knows what he's doing. And we've faced these sort of situations before. But none of us could do anything if you ended up cursed. And we'd still have to face the Russians sooner or later - just without you." And, possibly, without Dumbledore's help. If the old man decided to cut his losses, he might even choose to deliver them to the Russians to prove that there was no portal to take any more. Dad might consider Dumbledore a friend, but Ron wasn't sure if the reverse was true. And he was certain that Grindelwald didn't care for any of them.

"Sometimes you have to take calculated risks," she replied, raising her chin slightly.

He shrugged. "Yes, but I don't think you can calculate the risks in this case." Or, even if she could, that it would be worth taking such a risk.

Once more, she pressed her lips together, but this time, she didn't answer even after a few seconds had passed.

So he reached out and touched her shoulder. "Please."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Alright. Let's take a break."

He was tempted to tease her but refrained from doing so. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked towards the bench.

They sat down together, and he nodded at the intercom next to them. "Should I order our usual early?" The kitchen usually delivered drinks and snacks at half-past nine.

She shook her head. "No. We can take another break at the normal time." With a faint but - as far as he could tell - honest smile, she added: "I've got a wide selection of snacks in my bag."

He knew that. And he also knew that she used to live in her lab for days at a time. But he took her offer for what it was and smiled. "A Mars bar, please."

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 12th, 2005**

"Hermione looks less stressed."

Upon hearing Luna's comment, Ron looked up from where he had been stacking some of the targets from the exercise they had just finished. "Hm?"

"She was quite stressed after Mr Dumbledore's visit," Luna said as she knelt to help him. "Now she's not."

"Ah." So someone else had noticed. "We had a talk."

"Ah." She nodded with a faint grin that told him that her repeating his words wasn't an accident.

He rolled his eyes at her. "A _real _talk."

"Ah." After a moment, she giggled.

"You already knew that," he said.

"Yes." She sighed. "I talked to her while we were walking back to our starting positions."

He nodded. That had been after he and Harry had defeated their first attempt at an attack. The only time, actually, that he hadn't been with her today - she had gone straight back to her lab after the exercise. Hermione was more relaxed, but she certainly wasn't lazy. "So, how are you doing with the drones?"

"Oh, it's going well. I wish I could have them fly at a higher altitude, but then government radar would pick them up. But the surveillance network is coming along well." She smiled at him with obvious pride.

"How much does your network cover?"

"It doesn't cover our rooms," she said, "if you were afraid of that. Although I haven't found the network that does cover our rooms, yet. It must be something revolutionary, I think."

"Or there aren't any bugs in our quarters," Ron suggested. Dumbledore would be aware of their reaction to their bedrooms being bugged, wouldn't he?

She shook her head. "He'll want some surveillance. But short of ripping out the walls, floor and ceiling, it'll be hard to find. He could've had listening pipes built into them. Nothing electronic at all on that end."

To imagine Filch listening in to them, at night… Ron shuddered.

Luna nodded in apparent sympathy. "I've been keeping my eyes on the obvious suspects, but I haven't caught them yet." She sighed and looked out at the Black Lake. "But, at least, we've got the area outside covered."

Ron blinked. Wait a minute… "So that's how you caught us in the second part today!"

Once more, she giggled. "You said we should act as realistically as possible."

"We didn't spot any drones," he pointed out. And they had been looking for them, too. Luna had used drones - her toy helicopters - in such exercises before, after all.

"There are thermographic cameras concealed at several locations," she admitted. "We didn't use them in the first attempt, to see how it would go without them."

"Ah." He looked down at the shore, where Harry and Ginny were checking their training weapons. His sister looked smug. "I guess she didn't tell him, did she?"

"She asked us not to tell you."

He shook his head. Sometimes, his sister was a little too much like the twins. Well, not that rarely, actually - but, unlike the twins, she got away with it too often.

"She's been feeling stressed, too," Luna mentioned.

Ron nodded. "All of us are."

She didn't disagree.

* * *

Dumbledore revisited them that evening, smiling widely this time. And once again, he didn't tell them the real reason for his visit during dinner. He probably enjoyed making them wait and wonder while he made polite conversation. It was annoying, but Ron had to admit that it was perhaps easier to enjoy the meal if you weren't discussing serious matters. Slightly easier, overall - worrying what news would be revealed wasn't that conducive to a pleasant dining experience, either.

Finally, Dumbledore finished dessert - crème brûlée this time - and put his fork down. "Now, I'm certain that you're wondering why I'm visiting so soon after my last visit."

"You've got good news, or news you think is good news," Luna said.

"An important distinction, Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore replied, nodding at her. "After all, almost all of our views are subjective. Certainly when it comes to judging news."

"So, what did your men find out?" Ginny asked.

"Ah." The old man sighed, looking apologetic. "I have no new intelligence about our Russian friends, I'm afraid. No," he went on, "I'm here because I was approached by Arthur and Molly to arrange a meeting with you. I have evaluated the request, and I think it's safe, provided certain precautions are taken." He nodded at Luna and Hermione. "I took the liberty of assuming that you'd like to include your father and your parents' counterparts as well."

Oh. Ron felt queasy. Meeting Mum and Dad? He looked around, and Hermione and his sister seemed to feel the same way. Luna, however, was beaming and nodding rapidly.

Harry, on the other hand, was glaring at Dumbledore. "That is rather dangerous," Ron's friend snapped. "Anyone observing them will be led straight to us."

"I have people trained and able to spot such tails," the old man retorted. "And rest assured that no one will be visiting this place."

"You're using us, and our families, to prop up a decoy site. Or as bait," Harry spat.

"Your and your families' safety is my priority, but I would be lying if I said that the fringe benefits of such a meeting have escaped my notice." Dumbledore's smile turned into a rather wry grin as he confirmed Harry's suspicion.

Ron glared at the spymaster. You didn't risk civilians like that. Especially not his and his friends' families. "And what if the Russians manage to follow us afterwards?" No one was perfect, not even the smug old man.

"They'll be led straight into a trap - a series of traps, to be precise." Dumbledore shook his head. "I am aware of and understand your misgivings, but this won't be a dangerous gamble relying on luck, but a well-planned operation."

"The more of your people who know about us, the bigger the chance that a traitor learns about us," Harry pointed out.

"I've taken that into account as well. The only ones involved in your trip will be people already aware of this location," Dumbledore replied. He still didn't seem to be fazed by their reactions and accusations.

"It's an unnecessary risk," Ron told him. "Putting our families in danger for a meeting?"

"Staying isolated also puts them at risk," the old man retorted. "How much longer do you think it'll take before your parents will attempt to contact you on their own?" He spread his hands. "I doubt that imprisoning them for their own protection is a good idea."

Sirius snorted at that, looking surprised at his own reaction a moment later.

Ron was tempted to disagree, but the spymaster had a point, as much as he loathed having to admit it. They couldn't let their families become actual prisoners 'for their own good'. Mum and Dad wouldn't forgive them, he was certain. If they even believed it, and didn't assume that Dumbledore was also keeping this group locked up against their will. And if Ron's siblings got involved…

"Daddy wouldn't let you do that," Luna said. "He'd trigger all the contingencies we've prepared for such a situation. Even the Shadow Government knows better than to push us this far!"

"Quite." Dumbledore nodded at her. "While I certainly agree that the safest course of action would be continuing to avoid contact, I don't think that this will be possible without causing exactly the kind of disaster we want to avoid. And while such twists are common and entertaining in literature - have been since ancient times - I prefer to keep them in literary works instead of allowing them to actually happen."

"I don't think that my… the Grangers would cause much trouble," Hermione commented. She looked calm, but Ron could tell how tense she was. And how angry.

"I think that they might surprise you, Dr Granger." For a moment, Dumbledore looked as if he pitied her, or so Ron thought.

"It doesn't matter," Ginny spoke up. "If Mum is set on this, then she won't listen to reason. And Dad…"

"...will support her," Ron added with a sigh. Dad was laid back, generally, but his patience had limits.

"Yes." Ginny nodded in agreement.

Harry shook his head. "I don't like this."

"As I said, I would prefer an alternative myself, but even regular electronic communication has its limits," Dumbledore said.

Ron winced. He should have written more mails to his family. And longer ones. This was probably partially his own fault. But he couldn't have told them about the missions and the dangers. Or about magic.

"And the more information you send, the easier it gets to decrypt," Luna said, nodding.

"Precisely."

"So, when and where can we meet them?" she went on.

"That still remains to be seen, though I think Southern England would be best," Dumbledore told her.

That was about the farthest you could be from here and still remain in mainland Britain. "Won't the Russians expect that?" Ron asked.

"Even if they did, they still wouldn't have a clue where to begin their search - and Scotland is quite large but thinly populated," Dumbledore retorted. "Not to mention that they will suspect me of pulling a double-bluff and might assume I expect them to think I chose a location as far away as possible while actually having the meeting take place near the real laboratory."

"Or a quadruple bluff," Luna said, looking excited. "Perhaps even a sextuple bluff."

"I think they'll try to cover all bases and pursue all leads, which will further set back their pursuit of us, and may cause them to offer us another opportunity to deal with them."

Ron shook his head. He didn't like these sorts of mind games. Trying to think like a criminal was difficult enough in his line of work, to try it with Russian spies…

And Dumbledore apparently being able to think like Luna?

That was wrong. Very wrong.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, October 14th, 2005**

"I'm still not convinced that this is a good idea."

Ron stopped getting into the SUV and turned to look at Harry. His friend met his eyes with a frown. "It's not," Ron replied. "But the alternatives are worse."

Harry scoffed and shook his head. To Ron's relief, he didn't press the issue - they had been over this before, since Dumbledore's visit, and things had sometimes grown a little heated. Apparently, this wouldn't be one of those times, so Ron nodded and entered the car, taking the seat next to Hermione while Harry went to the second SUV.

"Did he complain again?" she asked as soon as he had closed the door and she wouldn't be overheard.

Ron shrugged. "Not really."

She snorted in response. "So he did."

"Not much," Ron admitted. "And it's not as if it would amount to anything, anyway." In a minute or two, they'd be on the way to England.

"Let's hope he doesn't annoy Ginny too much," she said.

"He won't." Ron was sure of that - his little sister wouldn't let him. Ginny was already quite worked up over their impending meeting with the 'rents, and so her temper would be worse than usual. Ron was very glad he wasn't in the other car - any row would be spectacular.

On the other hand, he added to himself as he saw Luna approach their car pushing a trolley loaded down with a crate upon which three drones were balanced, Harry, Ginny and Sirius wouldn't be at risk of being decapitated by drone parts if their car had an accident.

"Ron, can you help me load the crate? I can handle Anna, Bertha and Chrysalis, but the crate's a little too heavy to easily lift."

"Of course." He had known Luna would name the drones. But… 'Chrysalis'? Better not ask, he thought to himself.

As he found out, the crate was _very _heavy. He had to strain to lift it high enough to push it into the boot. Forget the danger from drones - if they ran into something, the crate would probably end up smashing their engine. After going through the passenger compartment.

"Thank you!" Luna said while she stacked all three drones on to the free seat next to her.

"No problem," he told her while he tried to subtly rub his back.

Judging by the way Hermione shook her head at him with a wry smile as he climbed back into the car, he hadn't been subtle enough. He rolled his eyes at her, and she chuckled in return.

But the levity didn't last, of course. She closed her eyes and sighed before leaning back in her seat as their driver and guard - 'Smith' and 'Brown', both apparently lacking a first name - got in.

"Having second thoughts?" he asked.

"I've been having second thoughts for days."

"Oh?" Luna piped up. A moment later, her head appeared between Ron and Hermione as she bent over the backrest of their bench. "Why?"

"She's feeling guilty," Ron replied before Hermione could think of an answer. "Even if it's not her fault." He met her annoyed glare with raised eyebrows - he knew what she was thinking. And she should know his opinion about it.

At least she didn't try to deny it.

"Oh." Luna shook her head with a sigh. "You really should know better, Hermione. It's not your fault."

Of course, Hermione couldn't leave that be. "Without me, none of you or your families would be in danger."

"Of course we'd be in danger!" Luna retorted. "Anyone trying to uncover the machinations of the cabal behind the government is in danger!" After a moment, she added: "And police officers, at least if they aren't corrupt, are in danger as well. Ginny has had to dodge paparazzi for years, which, as everyone knows after Paris, is dangerous. Even though she usually drives herself. I guess Sirius would be safer - but also far more bored."

Since Luna was facing Hermione, Ron could grin at her confusion from behind the back of Luna's head. When Luna set her mind on something, there was no arguing. You could try, but to no avail.

"Besides, a little danger is a small price to pay for becoming your friend," Luna told her. Ron didn't have to see her face to know she was beaming at Hermione in that charming but utterly honest way of hers. She had a way with people and was far more insightful than most people thought.

He nodded, smiling at Hermione's surprised reaction. "Yes. We won't abandon you, no matter what."

She sniffled, once, as she nodded in return. "Thank you."

"Yes," Luna added. "Ginny must have lost a fortune in prize money and advertising contracts, but have you heard her complaining?"

And, Ron thought with a wince as Hermione gasped, hands flying to her mouth, sometimes, Luna's honesty wasn't charming or helping. Or very insightful.

* * *

**Near Cuxwold, Lincolnshire, Britain, October 15th, 2005**

The light wasn't good - it was past midnight already - but from what Ron could tell, the safehouse looked more like a hovel. And not a hovel old enough that English Heritage would care about it - just decrepit, not ancient. And he was sure that the garage they were entering was a repurposed barn. The inside matched the outside, too, he noticed a moment later as Brown opened the doors and Smith drove them inside - there was even a pile of hay in a corner.

"Hope no one's allergic," he said as they got out.

"To mould?" Hermione asked.

He chuckled.

"Over here," Smith told them, moving towards a crate.

"Are we going to camp out here?" Luna asked. "Or is there a secret passage built into the building?"

Smith blinked for a moment, then pushed the crate away, revealing a trapdoor beneath it.

"A secret passage!" Luna all but cheered. "This must be an old Secret Service station - we're near a former emergency airfield; they were used for spy missions in the war and afterwards, you know."

Judging by the way Smith jerked a little, she was on the mark. The stairs under the trapdoor certainly were far more solid than the barn's appearance would lead one to expect, and the basement was solid concrete with modern lights - and the obvious entrance to an underground bunker.

Dumbledore apparently didn't plan to skimp on their security. That they wouldn't be able to easily take a walk was likely a welcome bonus.

But it was too late for a stroll anyway, much less a run. They'd be up in six hours, so they'd make the meeting with enough time to spare to ensure the place was safe - and to pick a route that wouldn't lead straight back to this spot.

"Oh, a secret underground base!" Sirius exclaimed. "Now that's what I call style! As long as it has comfortable beds, and not army cots, of course."

"The quarters are comfortable," Smith replied as he entered a code into the pad next to the door.

"Are they? You don't know my standards, do you?" Sirius said.

"They're the same as at the other location." Smith stepped to the side as the door started to open - and revealed that it was as massive as a vault door.

If Dumbledore was about to double-cross them and locked them inside… Ron shook his head. If the old man wanted to stab them in the back, he wouldn't need to go to such lengths; he had had ample opportunities to do so on the way here.

They entered, and found themselves in rather familiar surroundings - but for a slightly stale smell, it looked similar to the underground parts of the laboratory. "Built by the same people, or built according to the same specs?" he wondered.

"Either way, it's a potential leak," Harry replied. "If different people built the bases, someone might still be able to track the construction materials."

"That was taken into account during construction," Brown said, a little stiffly, in Ron's opinion. For someone who hadn't said a single word during the drive, despite Luna's best efforts, he was downright chatty now.

"Did you tell the mole that as well?" Harry shot back.

The man didn't answer that but instead stiffened some more. "Your quarters are to the right. Breakfast will be served at 7 o'clock."

"I hope it's not a continental breakfast," Sirius said with a wide smile. "We'll need a hearty meal to face tomorrow."

"Our means are limited. Security, you understand," Brown replied with a bland expression.

Definitely continental, then. Probably without anything fresh. If Mum were here… Ron sighed.

"I'm sure we'll manage," Hermione said, patting her bag as they entered their quarters.

"Oh, it's not about that," he replied. "Not really, at least. I was just thinking about Mum's reaction if she were here."

"Ah."

They entered their room - the second from the mini-lounge. The bed looked comfortable, but the whole place felt more bland than a hotel room. Almost sterile.

"Are you nervous?" she asked as she sat down on the bed, testing it.

"About tomorrow?"

She tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. He snorted in response - it was a dumb question. "Yes," he said after a deep breath. "I'm sure that Dumbledore's doing his best to keep us safe, but some risk remains."

"Yes," she agreed.

A few seconds passed in silence.

"But, well… you probably know what to expect tomorrow," he said. She knew his parents' counterparts, after all.

"I haven't met your mother yet," she replied.

Which was another can of worms, Ron thought. He wasn't exactly bringing a girl home, but it felt a little like it. Or a lot. "She'll like you," he said.

"Because she thinks you'll settle down with me and stop risking your life?"

He snorted again. Oh, she knew what to expect, indeed.

* * *

**Rye, East Sussex, Britain, October 15th, 2005**

Walking through the small village, Ron couldn't help feeling terribly exposed. They were in disguise, this time as tourists, but that did little to calm his nerves. They had split up before reaching the village, but they were still the right age… If he were looking for them, he wouldn't miss them. It was a little late in the year for tourists, anyway, unless they were retirees. If anyone followed their families to this village, they'd probably make them.

On the other hand, anyone tailing them would stick out here as well - and they'd also have to pose as tourists since he doubted that the Russians had any informants in the village. Dumbledore, though, wouldn't have picked Rye if he didn't have some assets in place - provided he could trust them.

Dumbledore. It all came down to trusting the old man. His plans, his men, his choice of location.

And Ron loathed it. The former spymaster - with 'former' being a very technical term where he was concerned - knew his business. They had changed cars twice since leaving the bunker, and Ron hadn't spotted anyone following them. He couldn't have planned it better himself. Nor as well. And that irked him the most.

"Smile a little," he heard Ginny whisper next to him, "we're supposed to be tourists having a good time."

He snorted at that. As part of their disguises, they had broken up the couples. He couldn't even walk with Hermione. "You're not exactly looking happy, either."

"I don't look like I'm about to attack the next guy who gets close."

"So people will assume that I'm a jealous, insecure boyfriend."

"Well, you _are_ a jealous, insecure boyfriend," she retorted. "Just not mine."

"What?" he stared at her.

She scoffed as she met his eyes. "I know you."

"I'm not insecure," he told her.

"Sure you are. And you're jealous - of your counterpart."

"I'm not," he spat. Just what had Hermione talked about with Ginny and, presumably, Luna?

"And here's the insecurity."

"My love life is none of your business." Cheap, but better than sounding like a teenager.

"You're my brother." She bared her teeth at him in a toothy grin.

He knew what she meant. "I'm not a teenager any more." And he had never been a teenage girl with a crush on her brother's best friend. This wasn't the same.

She sniffed, obviously not agreeing. "Acting like a jealous, insecure boyfriend won't help you with Hermione."

"I don't need any help."

She shook her head. "Good luck trying to convince Mum of that."

"She'll focus on her baby girl," he shot back. This wasn't about matchmaking, but 'terrorist attacks' - and Mum knew he could take care of himself. Ginny, though, could have a black belt in every martial art known to mankind, and Mum would still think she needed protection.

Now Ginny scowled at him while he grinned back.

And they had reached The Mermaid Inn. Perfect timing.

A precisely worded phrase to the innkeeper got them a room as cover, and a passage through a secret tunnel to the actual meeting spot - hidden under The Olde Bell Inn, the town's other famous inn. "English Heritage would have a stroke knowing someone installed all of this," Ron muttered as they entered a very modern-looking part.

"As long as something's not visible and not replacing or altering anything valuable, they don't care. You could build a bunker under your manor," Ginny told him.

"I don't have a manor," he pointed out.

"You might get one if you marry Hermione."

"What?"

"She'll control access to her world. And their magical health care. You know how much money people will pay her for a real miracle cure?" Ginny snorted. "Even with Dumbledore taking his cut, she'll be raking in the money."

"She doesn't care about that," he told her.

"Well, someone has to," Ginny said, shrugging. "Might as well be you. Now look happy, we're about to meet Mum and Dad."

She wasn't quite right, though. When they entered the meeting room - one of the guards, another of Dumbledore's men, opened the door for them - not just Mum and Dad, but also Xenophon and the Grangers were waiting for them.

And the others hadn't arrived yet.

"Ron! Ginny!"

A moment later, Mum grabbed both of them and hugged them, hard. But any embarrassment or annoyance Ron might have felt died when he realised she was sobbing.

"I was so afraid for you both! The things I heard…"

"What were you thinking, Son?"

Ron looked over her shoulder as he patted her back. Dad looked disappointed. And concerned. The Grangers looked uncomfortable, but Xenophon… looked confused. Of course - Luna must have told him enough to figure things out - or close enough. And he probably hadn't realised that other parents wouldn't be proud of their kids' involvement in such matters.

Great. Ron should have expected this. Then he had another thought: Had Dumbledore arranged this? And for what purpose?

Or was he becoming a little too paranoid?

"What were you thinking? And you, Ginny! Risking your life like that!"

"What?" Ginny made a decent effort at displaying honest, innocent surprise, but she didn't quite pull it off.

"Going off to attack criminals! In foreign countries!" Mum told her.

What? Ron blinked. Luna knew better than to go into these details - ever since their ill-fated 'swamp expedition' back when they were nine and eight, she had known that certain things were to be kept a secret from Mum and Dad.

And in an instant, Ginny switched from innocent to digging in her heels and doubling down. "Mum! Everyone went - I couldn't let them go by themselves! They needed my help!"

"You're not a police officer! Nor are you a former soldier! Oh, I'll have words with Sirius!"

"It was my decision, Mum! I'm old enough to make my own choices!" Ginny retorted.

"Don't take that tone with me, young lady! Risking your life by going to war is not the same as buying a sports car with the prize money from your first tournament win!"

"So? You're opposed to both!"

"With good reason!"

Ron slowly backed away. This was familiar terrain, and his mum and his sister could easily go on to butt heads for an hour or two.

"I do have to agree with Molly," Dad told him in a low but firm voice. "Why did you drag your little sister to war?"

"War?" Ron stalled.

"The 'terrorist attack' on Russia's Black Sea Coast. Xenophon figured out that that had been you."

Ron winced under his father's stare. Dad was laid-back, but sometimes, he showed a temper, and this might be one of these times. "We didn't have much of a choice," he said in a not quite whisper while Ginny and Mum were rehashing Ginny's teenage rebellion. "We could only trust each other."

"You couldn't trust Dumbledore?" Dad sounded surprised. Perhaps even a little shocked. "Dr Granger's research is that valuable?"

"Yes." Even more than that, actually, as Ginny had reminded him.

"But to drag your little sister into this…"

"We couldn't exactly make her stay behind," Ron defended himself. "Harry tried his best."

Judging by the way Dad's lips thinned, Sirius might not be the only one getting a talking to.

And as if they had been waiting for their cue, Harry and Sirius entered.

"Hello, everyone!" Sirius said, smiling widely at Mum in a - doomed, Ron knew - attempt to charm her. "Molly! How are you?"

"Harry! Tell Mum that you needed my help to escape the mercenary ambush! I was the only one able to drive when Sirius got shot!" Ginny interrupted the older man.

"I was laying down covering fire with the machine gun!" Sirius defended himself.

"Until you got shot."

And Mum exploded.

* * *

By the time Hermione and Luna entered the room, about ten minutes late, likely due to Luna getting distracted by the secret tunnel, Mum had calmed down - a little, at least. She was still glaring daggers at Sirius, Harry, Ron and Ginny.

"Daddy!"

"Luna!"

"Hermione!"

"Gabriel! Ellen!"

Their family reunions were as emotional as Ron's own, if not quite as loud.

"Did you find out anything else about the shadow government?"

"Oh, yes! The Russians aren't part of it - but they tried to compromise it! And Putin is worse than we thought!"

"Oh! What did he do?"

"He's covering up even more than we thought, and may attack Britain in disguise!"

Ron tried to tune the Lovegoods out as he took a step closer to the Grangers.

"I've got bad news," he heard Hermione saw in a low voice. "About my counterpart."

Both Grangers stiffened. "She's dead, then." Mr Granger said.

Hermione slowly nodded. "I'm sorry."

"We were all but certain for years," Mr Granger said. "This is just confirmation."

But he had tears in his eyes, Ron noticed - and Mrs Granger was crying.

Ron almost wished Mum would go on another tirade and distract everyone.

But she didn't - she greeted Luna with a smile. "Luna! How are you doing? You didn't get hurt, did you?"

"Oh, no! I was perfectly safe. Well, as safe as everyone else. Most of the time. I'm usually piloting the helicopter."

"The helicopter?" Xenophon cut in."Oh, how marvellous!"

"Oh, yes. I had to wreck one, though - we needed a distraction for the Russian navy to chase." Luna nodded happily. "They shot the helicopter down, but Mr Dumbledore got me a better one."

"You… what? You risked your life as a distraction?"

"It was a toy helicopter!" Ron blurted out. Not for the first time, he wondered whether Luna knew exactly how her words would be misunderstood or if she genuinely had no idea until after the fact.

"A toy helicopter?"

"Yes, like a drone," Luna confirmed. "And there was no one on it that time."

"'That time'?" Dad asked. "Just how big was that toy?"

"Oh, about two feet," Luna said, demonstrating the length with her hands. "The rotor blades are a little longer, though. But," she added, perking up, "I got to fly a large drone as well!"

"Oh! A spy drone? Or a Predator?"

"A spy drone!"

"Marvellous! Did you find out how they monitor our communications from the air?"

While the Lovegoods got lost in technical details, leaving Mum and Dad confused, Ron glanced back at the Grangers and winced - they were holding each other, with Hermione standing nearby, looking awkward and guilty. Even though this wasn't her fault at all.

It wasn't his, either, yet he felt guilty as well. His own family was fine.

So he walked over and wrapped his arm around Hermione, offering what comfort and reassurance he could. It wasn't much, but he felt her relax and lean into him. It also made him feel better.

Until he caught Mum and Dad watching them.

* * *

"_Ron, pass the bread, please. George! Don't you dare!"_

"_I wasn't doing anything! And I'm Fred!"_

"_I'm Fred and so is my wife."_

"_You're married? To Fred? Alicia will kill you!"_

"_Alicia will kill us both just to be sure she got you."_

_She snorted at their display. The twins weren't as funny as they thought they were - but they were funnier than Ron claimed. Of course, being their brother and frequent target, he was more than a little biased._

_A glance to the side showed her that Harry was laughing as well. Good. After that stupid tournament and Voldemort's return, and the Ministry's stubborn denial of reality, her friend needed all the laughs he could get. Although, in hindsight, showing him and the Weasleys 'Life of Brian' might not have been one of her better ideas._

"_Boys! Behave!"_

_As the Weasleys settled down, she leaned back and relaxed. She loved her parents, but meals at the Grangers were never this lively. Or this entertaining._


	30. Chapter 30: The Conference

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 30: The Conference**

**Rye, East Sussex, Britain, October 15th, 2005**

His parents were watching him. Them. And Ron knew the expression on Mum's face. He sighed. "Look at my parents," he whispered.

"What?" Hermione turned her head and saw them as well. "Oh," she added, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open.

"Yes," Ron replied. "Mum'll want to interrogate you."

"I can imagine."

"Did that happen… before?"

"No. I knew them long before we became a couple."

"Ah." Another difference.

Hermione was glancing back and forth between his parents and the Grangers, who were still hugging each other. This was becoming really awkward. They couldn't exactly walk away.

But before he or Hermione could think of how to handle this, Mum and Dad joined them. "What happened, Mr and Mrs Granger?" Mum asked straight away, with a glance at Ron that made it clear that she was wondering whether or not he was responsible for whatever had happened.

Mr Granger took a deep breath. "It's… we just received word that…" he trailed off, but Mrs Granger, between sniffles, blurted out: "Our daughter's dead."

Whatever Mum and Dad had expected, that wasn't it - they looked shocked. "Your daughter…?" Dad managed to say while Mum pressed her hand to her mouth.

"Yes," Mrs Granger said, then gasped and looked at Hermione. "I mean… I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded with a grimace. "I know." She took a step away from Ron and hugged the Grangers. And started to sniffle.

Which left Ron to face the pointed looks of his parents.

"Perhaps we should give them some privacy," Mum said. It wasn't a suggestion, of course.

Ron shook his head and kept his eyes on Hermione. He wasn't moving from her side. Not now. And if he had his way, not ever.

* * *

A few minutes later, the Grangers - all of them - had recovered their composure. They had also become the centre of attention, of course, but everyone - even Xenophon, though only after a little prompting by Luna, Ron had noticed - was too polite to bother them. Well, apart from Luna's dad and Ron's parents, everyone present already knew what this was about. And while Ron was sure that the room was bugged, even if he hadn't spotted any bugs - Dumbledore had prepared the meeting, after all - he was also sure that the old spymaster wouldn't let anyone not already aware of the truth listen in to their conversation.

Hermione returned to Ron and looked at him, biting her lower lip. He knew what she meant, but he couldn't make that decision for her. On the other hand, Mrs Granger had already let most of the cat out of the bag. With how famous the Granger case was, both the past kidnapping and the recent events, Mum and Dad wouldn't fail to find out that the Grangers didn't have another daughter.

She must have come to the same conclusion since she took a deep breath and turned to face their audience. "Most of you already know this. I'm not the Hermione who was kidnapped and murdered fourteen years ago."

"Oh, my! Are you from a parallel universe? Or a clone?" Xenophon asked, leaning forward. "Are you working on getting back to your world? Or trying to escape your creators?"

Well, they should have expected that reaction.

"Yes, I'm from another world," Hermione said. "And I'm working on opening a way back."

Ron saw Harry frown, but this revelation wouldn't change much, if anything - their parents were already in danger, after all, and their enemies already suspected the truth, or most of it.

"What?" Mum blurted out. "That's ridiculous!" She shook her head, then turned to glare at Ron. "And you! Do you honestly think we'll fall for such a stupid story?"

Ron drew a slow, hissing breath. Right. Without proof, the truth did sound unbelievable.

"I knew it! A parallel world! And you've been fighting a shadow war against other dimensional travellers whose aim is to take over our world!"

And that Xenophon was apparently not questioning it at all wouldn't help. What could he say to convince them that Hermione wasn't lying?

"Don't tell me that you actually believe this!" Mum went on - apparently, Ron had waited a little too long before responding. "This isn't one of your silly books!"

"My books aren't silly!" he retorted at once, before immediately regretting it - now he sounded like a teenager. "And this isn't about my books at all. We've got proof."

"Proof?" Dad sounded rather dubious as well.

"You can ask Dumbledore!" Ginny cut in. "He can vouch for us."

"'Us'?" Mum wasn't taking that little hint well, either. "What exactly do you mean?"

"As much as I respect him," Dad said, putting a hand on Mum's arm, "he is a former intelligence agent, and used to obscuring the truth - often for our own good, as he's fond of saying."

"But he wouldn't pick an unbelievable cover story," Ron pointed out.

"On the contrary!" Xenophon cut in. "He would do exactly that, knowing that we would think he wouldn't."

"But it's true," Luna said. "We've seen proof."

"You saw the other world?" Dad asked.

"No," she replied. "But we saw what Hermione brought over."

"Yes," Mr Granger added.

"Really?" Dad still sounded sceptical. "You wouldn't happen to have such proof with you, would you?"

"Arthur!" Mum exclaimed. "Don't tell me that you believe this! This is obviously a fancy tale to hide what's really going on. And it's putting our children in danger!" She was now glaring at Hermione, Ron noticed. That was a really bad sign.

"Hermione? Perhaps you could demonstrate?" Mrs Granger suggested.

Hermione didn't reply at once, though - she was glancing at him, Ron noticed. "Cat's out of the bag," he told her.

That made her snort, and she held up her beaded bag.

"That ratty old bag is your proof?" Mum could be really snide when she wanted.

"Yes, this ratty old bag is actually much bigger on the inside than it appears," Hermione replied in a sharp tone.

"A bag of holding?" Dad asked. Ron had to suppress a snicker at hearing that.

Instead of answering, Hermione handed the bag over to Mum and Dad. "Please examine it so you can be certain that this is not a parlour trick."

Without being 'keyed' to the bag - like Ron and Harry were - they couldn't access the extended interior, only the decoy compartment. Which was filled with the typical contents of a purse. Mum didn't do more than glance at the bag, but Dad emptied it, then did his best to turn it inside out. He even inspected the seams, Ron saw - well, Dad liked to tinker in his spare time, so that would come naturally to him.

"It's a normal bag," Ron's father finally stated after several minutes.

Hermione smiled sweetly - and triumphantly - as she retook her bag. Knowing what was coming, Ron took a step back. As did the others of their group as well as the Grangers.

Then Hermione emptied the real contents of the bag of holding on to the floor: MREs, tents, a zodiac - not inflated, of course - jerry cans, more food, water bottles, and, of course, lots of guns and other illegal gear.

Ron really enjoyed seeing his parents' jaws almost join the gear on the ground. 'Silly books', indeed!

"That's…" Dad blinked. "How on earth is this possible?"

"It must be a trick!" Mum insisted.

"It's not a trick," Hermione retorted. "The space inside the bag has been extended - to many times its actual volume." She put her hands on her hips and frowned at Ron's mum. "And, in any case, how would I have been able to smuggle all these supplies into this room? And then make them fall out of a bag?"

"Perhaps an optical illusion…" Dad trailed off.

"We've moved around in this room," Ron said. "No mirrors. No smoke."

Sirius, who had obviously kept a rather low profile after he and Harry had been on the receiving end of Mum's fury, chuckled.

"And even if it were a trick, it would require technology we don't have in this world," Ron pointed out. "Which would be proof in itself."

"It wouldn't," Xenophon corrected him. "No government, ever, would reveal the full extent of their capabilities."

"Spatial warping like this is too far beyond the technology curve to have been developed in this world," Ron retorted.

"That's what they want us to believe!" Luna's father shook his head.

"I've verified it, Daddy," Luna told him.

"Really?"

"Yes." Luna nodded emphatically.

"That's alright, then."

"That's impossible…" Mum was still shaking her head, and Dad didn't look much better. "And what are those guns? Those aren't police issue, are they?"

"Uh…" Ron winced once more. It seemed that they had overlooked that little detail.

"Ron!"

And he was about to get the blame for everything.

"We need the weapons to defend ourselves," Hermione interjected as she gathered them up and started to return them to her bag.

"Yes! Putin's certain to send his best agents after us!" Luna added. She was trying to help, but that comment had the opposite effect.

Mum blew up again. "Of course he will after you invaded Russia! What were you thinking?"

"We were hunting the person behind all the attacks on us," Harry spoke up. "The man responsible for Bones and Scrimgeour's murders."

"In Russia?" Mum retorted.

"That's outside your jurisdiction," Dad pointed out.

"Well, we're currently suspended, and we're quitting CI5 soon enough, anyway," Harry replied. "So we're not really bothered about jurisdiction any more."

"Indeed," Sirius confirmed. "They're free agents, or, rather, they soon will be."

Mum gasped. "What? You're quitting? What about your career? Ron!"

He grimaced. "Mum, my career - our careers - wouldn't have gone anywhere, anyway. Scrimgeour and Bones, both murdered when coming to meet us? And then us vanishing afterwards?" He snorted. "No one's going to trust us. Not really."

"But… it wasn't your fault!" Mum protested.

He shrugged. "That doesn't matter. Yaxley's death won't help, either - it's just too convenient that the main suspect's disappeared without a trace." And if they revealed how he'd died, things would look even worse for them.

"But…"

"You also stepped on too many toes - and you were too successful," Sirius said. "Whether it's the army or the police, it's always the same - playing by the rules is more important than getting results."

"Moody's doing fine," Harry pointed out.

"He probably knows too much about everyone," Sirius retorted. "But that might not help him if they install someone from outside CI5 as Bones's successor. And they would never pick him for the position."

"Who else can they pick? Dawlish?" Ron scoffed. "He's got the seniority, so they can't choose anyone junior to him."

"Not unless they were far more talented and knew the right people," Harry added.

Ron nodded. "And there's no one in CI5 who would fit the bill." Well, Harry would have - rich, famous and talented - but that bridge had already been burned before their last case.

"But what will you be doing instead?" Mum asked.

"We'll become private investigators," Harry said. "Security, bodyguarding, private investigations. There's a lot of demand if you're good enough. Which we are," he added with a grin.

Ron cleared his throat. "And there's also the portal, which will need to be protected."

"You're going to work for Dumbledore?" Dad asked.

Ron shrugged to hide his unease at the question. He didn't like the old man. "We've been working for him for months now."

"And he's almost got you killed! I'm going to have words with him!" Mum exclaimed.

"Molly!" Dad said, a little sharply. "You heard Ginny - they insisted."

"Yes, we did," Ron's sister confirmed.

"Can't trust anyone else," Sirius added - with quite misplaced nonchalance, in Ron's opinion.

"You're not going to drag my children to war again!" Mum snarled at Sirius.

"Molly, I'm sure Sirius won't do it again," Dad interjected.

"No one dragged me to war!" Ginny protested.

"Yes, you insisted on coming along," Luna agreed.

"There won't be any more such missions," Hermione told his parents. "Dumbledore was quite clear on that at the last debriefing. All that we're going to do now is stay at a secret location while I work on the portal."

"For how long?" Mum stared at Hermione. "You'll go back to your world, but what about everyone else?"

"We'll fix things," Ron told her - Hermione was looking guilty again, even though it wasn't her fault. "Everyone's going to be able to live normal lives again." Or as normal as the Lovegoods' lives ever were.

"And how will you manage that?" Dad asked. "A portal to another world… and the secret's out. The Russians know about it."

"Some Russians suspect," Harry corrected him.

"Are you going to kill them?" Xenophon asked. "They'll have taken measures to prevent the information from dying with them. Spies always do that, so their superiors don't kill them to keep their secrets secret."

"We know that and are taking it into account," Hermione said. "My world has a few options this world lacks, as the bag demonstrates."

"Oh!" Xenophon said. "Are you from the future as well as from another dimension? Is this technology stolen from the aliens trying to suborn our government?"

"There are no aliens in my world," Hermione told him.

"I know you have to say that." Luna's father nodded with a wink.

Hermione tried again. "No, there really aren't any aliens in my world."

Ron sighed and shook his head when she glanced at him. He knew from experience that Luna was the only one who could make Xenophon change his opinion.

"So we're just to trust you that you'll 'fix' this? That everything will go back to normal, all the deaths just forgotten?"

Ron winced at his mother's tone. That was the same tone she'd taken when the twins had revealed their plans to start a joke shop. He saw the Grangers flinching, too - though that was probably for other reasons.

"Yes. It'll take a while, but _we _will fix this." Hermione raised her chin and Ron saw she was meeting Mum's eyes with a determined expression.

Mum broke eye contact first - by switching her glare to Ron. "And you? Will you go with her when she returns to her world?"

Ron knew what she meant, but since he didn't know the answer to that question, he chose to misinterpret her. "We don't know what's been happening in Hermione's world during the last seven years. Going back alone wouldn't be smart."

"Yes!" Luna piped up. "If her enemies won the civil war, we'll have to fight a real fascist regime in an alternate Britain!"

"'Civil war'?" "What civil war?" "You were in a war?"

Ron closed his eyes and cursed under his breath. They really should have planned this meeting in detail.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I was fighting in a war against genocidal fascists when I was accidentally transported to this dimension."

"At your age?" Mum asked, looking shocked now. "You must have been barely eighteen!"

"I've been fighting against them since I was twelve," Hermione retorted, "together with my world's Harry and Ron."

"What?"

"And my and Ginny's counterparts joined the fight a few years later!" Luna cut in with a proud smile.

"As did all of the other Weasleys," Hermione went on, "as well as Sirius and the Lovegoods."

"We fought in a civil war? In Britain?" Dad seemed to have more trouble with that revelation than with the fact that alternate dimensions and parallel worlds were real. Then again, he had grown up with Dr Who - Ron had inherited his love for fantasy and science fiction from him.

"We let you fight in the war? Children?" Mum, of course, had slightly different priorities.

"We had no choice," Hermione replied. "My world's Tom Riddle was the leader of the fascists, and he was focused on my world's Harry. He tried to kill him several times during our school years - we were all at the same boarding school."

"All of you?" Xenophon asked. "That seems like a remarkable coincidence."

"All of our counterparts - with the exception of my parents - are humans with special gifts, and went to a special school," she explained. "And we were taught by my world's Dumbledore - who also ran one faction in the civil war."

Ron managed not to smile as he saw his parents' reactions to that information. Perhaps they wouldn't trust the old man as much as they had up to now - if Dumbledore's willingness to let the group go on dangerous missions hadn't already achieved that.

"'Special gifts'? Like the X-Men?" Dad sounded even more sceptical. And Mum's scowl had deepened. Xenophon, on the other hand, was beaming.

In response, Hermione held out her hand. "Accio glass!"

Even though he had seen it before, Ron still watched with fascination as the glass lifted off from the table in the centre of the room and slowly flew towards her. There was just something… special… to this that enchanted items like the beaded bag of holding lacked. And it didn't involve rituals and blood and incense.

"It's not a trick, either," Hermione said as she finished her spell. "In my world, a tiny minority have such special gifts."

"Telekinesis!" Xenophon exclaimed. "How wonderful! Can you fly as well?"

"No. Levitating a glass of water is about the most I can do like this," Hermione replied. "But with the right supplies - exclusive to my world, unfortunately - I can create items such as my bag. Or potions that heal wounds."

"They work like a charm, too." Sirius's grin turned a little snide as he addressed Mum: "So you see, we weren't exactly being 'suicidally reckless' when we went on our missions; we had healing potions and other such items to keep us safe."

"In order to heal someone, they have to get hurt first," Dad pointed out.

"That was merely one example - I have a number of other items available," Hermione told him. "But back to the war... In my world, the existence of such gifts and items is hidden from the public and limited to a select few members of government - as well as all the gifted. And some of them tried to take over the country and exterminate everyone they deemed impure - or subhuman. Like me. Or my Harry's mother."

"Dear Lord!"

"It was a war fought in the shadows, one side led by Dumbledore, the other by Tom Riddle, with the government being mostly ineffective," Hermione continued. "And the school was fought over as well. We had the upper hand until Dumbledore was killed. Then we had to go underground and fight back any way we could. I had an accident and ended up in this world during what we hoped would be the decisive battle of the war."

"And you want to return to your world to continue the war?" Dad asked.

"If needed." Ron saw Hermione press her lips together. "My world's Harry and Ron are my best friends - we were inseparable during our school years."

Ron stepped closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She didn't have to say out loud that her friends might be dead. And that she'd avenge them if that were the case. That was obvious.

And he'd help her. No matter what.

"And you want to drag our children into this war!"

Mum looked furious as she glared at Hermione.

"I'm not dragging anyone anywhere!" Hermione retorted, glaring back.

"I'm not going to let her face this alone," Ron said as firmly as he could.

That earned him another glare from Mum. "And what can you do while they use their 'gifts' to kill each other? You're not one of them!"

"There's more to fighting a war than killing," Ron retorted. Just because he wasn't a wizard didn't mean he was useless.

"Oh, yes!" Sirius cut in. "The actual killing is, actually, a small part. It's mostly logistics and paperwork. And training."

"We don't even know if the war's still going on," Hermione added. Ron did notice, though, that she didn't say anything about him being useful in a wizard war.

On the other hand, she had revealed magic to muggles - again. Well, she hadn't actually called it magic, but that was just semantics. And good thinking - Mum would have flipped if she had heard 'witchcraft' or 'magic'. But since Hermione had been taught for years to keep magic secret, wasn't this a good sign? If she planned to vanish into her own world, she wouldn't have done so. Of course, she could simply wipe their memories, but she wouldn't do that.

He shoved a lingering, nagging sliver of doubt away and said: "It doesn't matter. I'm not letting her face this alone."

"I see." Mum narrowed her eyes again. "That's how it is."

"Molly." Dad shook his head.

"Arthur! He's fallen for her - of course he'll follow her!" Her expression left no doubt about what she was implying.

And Hermione had picked it up as well - which shouldn't be a surprise since she knew Mum's counterpart. "Are you insinuating that I am using Ron?"

Mum opened her mouth, presumably to confirm that, but this time, Dad stopped her. "Molly, please." Ron's parents stared at each other for a moment, then Mum looked away, pressing her lips together until they formed a thin line.

Dad sighed, then addressed them: "We're not saying that. But… you are all under a lot of stress. That's not a good state of mind for making important decisions. Also, if Dr Granger knows Ron's counterpart very well, she might… ah… misjudge you, Ron. You only met three months ago."

"I'm very aware of that fact," Hermione replied in a clipped tone. "And trust me, I can tell the difference."

"Were you together with your Ron?" Mum asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

For a moment, it looked as if Hermione wouldn't answer. But then she nodded curtly. "Yes."

"Ah."

"Mum!" Ron snapped, then took a deep breath. Yelling at his mother wouldn't be a good idea right now. Even Sirius and Harry were keeping quiet. "Our relationship is none of your business. It's no one's business but ours."

"You're my son! I'm not going to watch while you go to another world and fight in a… a… a fantasy war!" she blurted out.

"That's my decision, not yours," Ron retorted.

"Our decision," Luna added. "Just as it was our decision to go to Russia. And Kosovo and Switzerland."

That startled Mum. "But… Luna!"

"This is not about them dating. This is about doing the right thing," Luna told her. "Hermione needs our help, so we'll help her!"

"Luna…" Hermione wasn't crying, Ron saw, but she was blinking rapidly.

"Besides, I want to meet my counterpart!" Luna was beaming.

Ron didn't want to meet his magical counterpart. Not at all. But this wasn't the time to mention that.

* * *

Of course, while Luna's declaration had ended the argument before it could escalate, it didn't mean Ron's parents would let things lie. As soon as Hermione and the Grangers had withdrawn to another room to deal with the news about their daughter's death in private, Mum and Dad closed in on him.

"Ron," Mum started - calmer now, fortunately, "have you thought about this? Not about the war," she added, and he could see she was pursing her lips, "but about your relationship. What if she gets back together with her world's Ron?"

Ron managed to school his features and avoid betraying his thoughts - of course he had thought about that. Far too often for comfort, actually. He shook his head. "It's been seven years since she arrived here. She's moved on." And the other Ron would have moved on, anyway - Ron would have, in his place.

"Have you ever talked about it?" she asked.

He glanced around, but he was on his own - the others were keeping their distance. Great. "Yes," he said. "Besides, they probably think she died."

"What? Why?"

He shrugged. "She disappeared during a battle seven years ago."

"But they know about parallel dimensions, don't they?" Dad asked.

"No, they don't," Ron told him. "Hermione's a pioneer."

"Oh." Mum looked surprised.

"Yes. She's a genius." Ron smiled.

"That was never in doubt," Dad said. "We're just worried about your relationship." He sighed. "I said it already: You're under a lot of stress. All the fighting… That's not a good base for a relationship. Even if there weren't your unique circumstances, that might be a problem."

Ron knew what he meant. But that was between Hermione and Ron. "We'll be fine," he said.

And hoped that he would turn out to be right.

Mum didn't look like she agreed - or wanted to accept it - but after another exchange of glances with Dad, she huffed and walked over to the others - presumably to check on Luna.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled after an awkward pause.

"For standing up for your girlfriend?" Dad asked in a low voice.

"For risking my life. But I have to… I can't do nothing," Ron tried to explain.

"We've known that ever since you got hurt the first time and we found out how dangerous working for CI5 is," Dad told him. "We should've known after Pettigrew." He sighed. "But knowing and accepting are two different things. Molly worries a lot about you."

"I know." Ron did. And he hated making his mother worry. But this was too important.

"And Ginny and Luna being involved in this isn't helping," Dad told him.

Ron clenched his teeth for a moment. "I know," he said. "But we couldn't keep them away. Should we have locked them up?" Dad knew them as well as Ron did.

"I guess not." His father shook his head. "You're a stubborn lot, all of you."

"We're your children - what did you expect?" Ron replied. Well, Luna wasn't - but Mum had taken care of her after Luna's mother had died in the car accident.

"You've got me there." Dad chuckled, but it sounded more rueful than amused. "Molly will come around. Eventually."

Ron nodded. Unless one of them died, of course.

"So… a bag of holding and healing potions?" Dad raised his eyebrows as he changed the subject.

"Hermione doesn't like it if we call her bag a bag of holding," Ron replied. "But functionally, that's what it is."

"Clarke's Law?"

"Yes." Ron nodded.

"Ah." Dad waited a moment, but if he wasn't going to ask directly if it was magic, Ron wouldn't tell him. "The 'portal' will be two-way, right?"

"Yes."

"That's good." His father was about to say something else, but the sight of Mum leaving the room - and not in the best state - interrupted him. He nodded at Ron and followed her.

Ron sighed again. Doing the right thing could feel wrong.

Hermione and the Grangers hadn't returned yet, so he went over to Luna and the others.

"Molly doesn't like what we're doing," Luna told him.

"As usual," Ginny said with a frown.

That was unfair, in Ron's opinion. Mum meant well. She just couldn't accept that they weren't children any more. "So, what now?"

Xenophon smiled at him and pulled out an old-fashioned notebook. "Well, I've got a lot of questions, mostly for Dr Granger, but until she returns…"

Ron suppressed a groan. Xenophon could be worse than a CI5 interrogator. On the other hand, it was better than trying to deal with crying parents. "What do you want to know?"

"I'll have to interview Dr Granger as the primary source, of course, for the parallels and differences between our worlds. However, you were actually inside the secret Russian base, weren't you?"

Base? "You mean the compound on the Black Sea coast?" Ron asked.

"Yes. Run by a 'former' KGB officer - It's clear that President Putin was using him so he can claim plausible deniability. Did you find any proof of the link between them?"

As Xenophon's theories went, this wasn't the worst by far that Ron had heard. Not really implausible, either, now that he thought about it. "No, we didn't. We were too busy escaping."

"Ah. A pity. First-hand proof of government conspiracies in Russia is very hard to come by."

Xenophon sighed, and Luna patted his shoulder. "We'll get proof, Daddy. When we're dealing with the Russians once Hermione has settled things in her world, we can uncover their crimes at the same time!"

Ron winced. If Xenophon exposed the Russians, he would be risking his life. And Luna's. The Russians didn't shy away from murder in such cases. He glanced at Harry and Sirius, who looked grim - they would have realised this as well. Ginny, too.

And the worst thing, Ron realised, was that he suddenly understood perfectly how Mum had to be feeling about his own choices.

* * *

Mum and Dad were still talking in another room - this really was a secret spy base, with so many safe underground rooms available - by the time Hermione and the Grangers rejoined Ron and the others. He hugged her - she looked like she needed it.

"Where are your parents?" she asked after a moment.

"Mum had to leave for a while to calm down. Dad went with her," Ron said.

"Ah." He heard and felt her sighing. "Not exactly a happy family reunion."

"No," he agreed. "But it could've been worse." Probably.

"It can always be worse."

"Was it as bad in your world? About your mission in the war, I mean," he clarified - he didn't want to hear about how his counterpart's family had reacted to the other Ron getting together with Hermione.

"I don't know - we weren't there when they were told," she replied as she stepped back from his embrace.

"Ah." He stayed close to her. "Did Dumbledore arrange that?"

"He told us not to tell anyone about our mission."

He took that as a 'yes'. "We should have planned this a little more," he said. "Dumbledore organised a secure underground meeting room - with catering - and we pretty much stumbled into this." And Ron was sure that the old spymaster had anticipated that.

"What could we have done differently?" she retorted. "Unless we lied to your parents, they would not have been happy anyway. And there's no good way to tell a parent that their child is dead."

Ron slowly nodded. He didn't quite agree - they could have run this a little better. Prepared his parents and the Grangers a little more. On the other hand, that would have felt like they were 'handling' them. Damned if we do, damned if we don't. "Well, at least no one stormed off."

And if the lunch that would soon be served was as good as the cooking in the laboratory, then that should help improve the mood.

* * *

Lunch was excellent - salad, potato soup and steak frites. By the time they were served a variety of desserts, including Ron's favourite mousse au chocolat, the mood certainly had improved, in Ron's opinion.

"The twins opened a joke shop? Really?" Dad sounded bemused, and even Mum was smiling as she shook her head.

"Well, it was a mail-order business, but they had plans to open a shop in our main shopping district later," Hermione answered. An awkward pause followed since everyone knew that 'later' in this case meant 'after the wear' and not 'after school', but that was the elephant no one was talking about at the table.

"The parallels are amazing," Luna piped up. "Especially since there are clear differences as well. We didn't all go to the same school, for instance."

And this world's Hermione had been killed in 1991, and had never met any of them. Ron grabbed another helping from the dessert trolley. Luna hadn't meant it like that, and this Hermione wouldn't have gone to Ron and Harry's school, anyway, but he still carefully didn't look at the Grangers.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "It's quite the coincidence - or it may be that you can only travel to a dimension that's very close to your own."

"You don't know?" Dad sounded surprised. "But you're close to opening a portal to your home dimension, aren't you?"

She shook her head. "Yes. To my home - not to a random dimension. I already know that interdimensional travel is possible since I've done it, although accidentally, and I have several items from my home dimension, including myself, as a guide."

"Ah. So you're not working on a universal portal, so to speak."

Ron groaned at Dad's pun.

"No, although in theory, it should be possible to use the same method as a base for travelling to other dimensions," Hermione replied.

"Something to explore later," Luna said. "Imagine travelling to worlds with an utterly alien history - perhaps worlds where the dinosaurs didn't go extinct but developed sapience? What do you think our dinosaur counterparts would look like? Would we all be the same kind or different species?"

Ron was about to point out that it was unlikely that two or more different sapient species would evolve on the same planet but then remembered that there were at least a dozen sapient magical species in Hermione's world. And, well, most fantasy books had several sapient races in the same world, like elves, dwarves, orcs and humans.

"Oh, I would like to be able to fly," Luna's father said, nodding enthusiastically.

Luna beamed at him. "Oh, yes. Or… what about a world full of dragons? What type of dragon would your counterpart be? Red, for you, Ron?"

"Only if they're not always chaotic evil," Ron joked, but only Luna, Harry and Hermione laughed. Ginny rolled her eyes, and the others didn't seem to know about D&D.

But it had started the ball rolling, so to speak, and they spent half an hour speculating about various hypothetical versions of everyone without another awkward pause breaking the mood.

* * *

**M11, East of Cambridge, Britain, October 15th, 2005**

"Luna's fallen asleep," Ron whispered as he retook his seat in the car.

"She must have worn herself out," Hermione replied in a low voice. "She practically ran the meeting all afternoon."

Which was probably why they hadn't had another row with his parents. "Luna always was the peacemaker," he said.

Hermione nodded in agreement but didn't elaborate on her Luna. Ron shrugged. "All in all, it could've gone worse."

"We didn't really settle our differences," Hermione pointed out. "They still don't like what we're planning to do."

"It's as settled as it usually goes, for my family," he replied with another shrug."We're too stubborn to actually admit defeat - we just sort of don't bring it up again."

"That doesn't sound like a good way of handling problems."

"It works for us," he told her.

"Well, as long as Molly no longer thinks that I'm going to lure you and Ginny into a war…"

She looked tense, he noticed. "She won't," he tried to reassure her. Of course, should any of them actually die, Mum would blame Hermione. But Hermione would blame herself anyway, as Ron knew, so there was no need to mention that. Not that she wouldn't know it already. "In any case," he continued, "we can now focus on our next step." Travelling to her world. In a way, they had said their goodbyes, too - but no one had mentioned that, of course.

"You mean watching me while I do the research," she said.

"And ensuring that you don't overwork yourself," he added with a grin. And, of course, preparing for the war. Just in case.

She nodded and leaned into his side with a contented - or so he thought - sigh. He closed his eyes and wrapped his left arm around her shoulders. They'd be driving without a break all the way to Scotland, with Smith and Brown alternating at the wheel, so taking a brief nap seemed like a good idea.

* * *

"_Do we have everything?" she asked, then bit her lower lip. She didn't want to nag. She trusted her friends. But she couldn't help it - this was important._

"_Yes, Mum," Ron replied._

_She clenched her teeth in response. He was just making a stupid joke. And she saw him flinch as he realised what he had done - just a little too late to keep himself from doing it._

"_Sorry, I didn't think…" He shrugged with a grimace._

"_It's alright," she told him, nodding curtly. _

_But it wasn't alright. She really didn't want to be reminded of her parents. Or his. They wouldn't have taken the news that Dumbledore had planned a mission for the trio well. Not that the Grangers or the Weasleys would have been told anything - operational security was paramount - but it didn't take a genius to work that out, not when the three of them had all but vanished right after Dumbledore's funeral._

_She didn't like doing it - her parents had barely seen her in the last two years, and would worry terribly about her while they were in hiding, and Molly and Arthur would fret a lot - but it was necessary. Someone had to track down and destroy the last of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and they were the only ones who could do it, thanks to Harry's link with the Dark Lord._

_She'd explain everything to her parents after the war. They would understand. At least she hoped they would._

_She grabbed her beaded bag and checked the Extension Charm one last time. Then she ran through her mental list of the contents of the bag. She couldn't think of anything they might have missed. _

_A last look around the rooms in the small cottage Dumbledore had provided for them didn't reveal anything amiss either - everything was in its place, including the hidden trunk with additional supplies. Just in case._

"_Alright, let's go!"_


	31. Chapter 31: The Decoy

As usual, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 31: The Decoy**

**Black Lake, Scotland, October 20th, 2005**

After a week of watching Hermione perform magic rituals, Ron had become slightly nonchalant about them. Not bored - they were still a sight to behold - but he wasn't as tense as he used to be. These days, he no longer expected trouble to start at any moment. He still was alert, of course - Moody's training had ensured that he wouldn't be lax just because something looked safe.

It helped, of course, that the ventilation system had been improved so that the incense didn't fill the entire lab any more. And the lighting adjustment meant that the whole ritual looked more clinical, more like a science experiment than a 'summoning of dark forces', as well.

Most importantly, though, Hermione had changed the formula, as she called it, and now the room didn't warp any more. Instead, tiny lights appeared in the middle of the quantum mirror cage - or danced over its frame.

He still felt a shiver run down his spine when Hermione stood and raised her arms above her head, and her chanting grew louder and louder until she was yelling. This was the climax. If anything went wrong, it would do so now.

But it didn't. Once more, a tiny glimmering light appeared in the centre of the cage. Like yesterday and the day before. He took a deep breath, then froze. Was the light growing brighter? He blinked - yes. Yes, it was. And it was growing in size as well. He blinked again - it was so bright, he had trouble focusing on it now, even squinting. And…

It vanished.

And Hermione was on her knees, panting. That hadn't happened during the last few rituals, either.

"Hermione! What did you do?" he snapped as he hurried towards her.

She took a deep breath, then sighed with her eyes closed before answering. "The link between the cage and the ritual worked. It was a bit more exhausting than I expected, though."

That didn't sound good - or safe. His expression must have betrayed his thoughts, or she knew him so well she could guess, since she went on: "I wasn't in any real danger - the limits were well defined."

"For this experiment."

"Yes."

That meant the limits would have to be expanded for the real deal.

She got up, but her legs were shaking, so he helped her stand. "Thanks."

He grunted in reply.

"I'll have to adjust the ritual a little more, but we're getting close."

"Close enough to open a tiny hole for a tiny period of time?" he asked.

"I'll have to check my data to answer that." She was beaming at him, so she hoped it was the case.

He smiled at her in return. This was good news - excellent news, really. They needed access to her world to deal with their problems here. The meeting with their families had helped, of course - it felt good to be able to talk to his parents without having to lie to them. That was probably the reason Dumbledore had set it up. But they were still in danger. Still being forced to hide. And they still didn't know anything about the state of Hermione's world, or her friends and family.

She sat down at her desk and quickly lost herself in the columns of data scrolling across the screen. "Oh… that's looking good. Very good," she mumbled.

Safely behind her, where she couldn't see his face, he let his smile fade and sighed. He still didn't know what Hermione would do when she returned to her world. It was pointless to ask before they knew the situation in her world, of course. At least he told himself that.

"Yes! Yes! It worked as planned!"

He forced the thought away when Hermione whirled and hugged him, holding her while she babbled about the experiment. There was no point in worrying about something he couldn't change.

* * *

"...and while the portal had a diameter measured in fractions of a nanometer, and only lasted a microsecond, it was definitely open and connected to another dimension," Hermione said, waving her fork around. Ron was tempted to mime ducking out of the way, but this was her moment. He'd still nag her into finishing her meal once she was done, of course.

"So now all you have to do is scale it up?" Luna asked.

"That's oversimplifying it a little. It's still a challenge - many processes that work on a small scale cannot be easily reproduced on a practical scale for various reasons, and the power requirements might be a little higher than I anticipated, but, essentially, yes, you're correct."

"Great!" Luna beamed. "I can't wait to meet my counterpart!"

"How much is 'a little higher'?" Harry asked.

Hermione winced. That wasn't a good sign.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, October 21st, 2005**

"...and these are the adjusted projected power demands," Hermione finished her presentation.

"I see." Dumbledore nodded and put down the sheet of paper she had given him. "That's quite a bit higher than your initial estimate." He didn't look surprised, though Ron couldn't tell if that was an act.

Hermione's brief frown wasn't faked, Ron could tell. But she raised her chin slightly and replied: "It was a preliminary estimate, based on the best data I had at the time, and with a conservative margin of error. However, as often happens, further experiments revealed that the original estimate had been too low."

"I anticipated that - you can imagine how often Phoenix Gruppe's research and development division is far too optimistic in their projections. However, the scale of this adjustment is rather unexpected."

The old man was being quite diplomatic, in Ron's opinion - Hermione's 'adjustments' came down to tripling the power demands.

She looked contrite as she nodded. "Yes, Mr Dumbledore."

He sighed. "This leaves us with few options. We could add more generators, which means the fuel deliveries will have to increase as well, requiring additional fuel tanks. Or, as an alternative, the laboratory would need to be connected to an existing power plant."

Ron snorted - a power line built through Scotland would lead their enemies straight to them - and would take far too long, too.

"What about a nuclear reactor?" Hermione asked. "There are compact models."

Dumbledore shook his head. "That is not an option. Nuclear reactors are tightly controlled. Even if the Phoenix Gruppe were in the business of building them for our shipyards, one couldn't be moved without attracting international attention from various sources - including protesters in Germany. Transporting one to this laboratory and installing it would also require specialised personnel and resources as well as additional construction, and would put the location on the map, so to speak. Her Majesty's Government would most certainly be very interested in whatever project would require such a power source." He sighed again. "Unless you can create a way to produce power through magic, we'll have to ship in more generators and adjust the refuelling schedule. It's not ideal and does threaten our secrecy, but I fear it's the only viable option."

"I was afraid of that," Hermione confessed. "I'm sorry."

"We'll have to make do."

"Do we have the space for the additional generators?" Ron asked.

"It'll be tight, but with some adjustments, it should be possible. Although the ventilation might be strained a little as a result."

That did sound like a rather significant drawback, given that this was mainly an underground base. "What about the paper trail?" he asked. He wasn't a physicist, nor a wizard, but Ron understood security and secrecy.

"We'll be using the same resources that were used to construct this facility in the first place," Dumbledore told them. "That part shouldn't pose additional security problems."

Ron nodded. "But more construction and more generators mean more deliveries. That will make it harder to hide the facility."

"Indeed, although while challenging, it's far from impossible. I have some experience in hiding important secrets." Dumbledore smiled confidently.

Ron still couldn't tell if it was an act or not.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, October 23rd, 2005**

Laying on the top of the hill overlooking the last leg of the road leading to the lake, Ron watched the trucks arrive through his night vision device. The full moon had been a few days ago, but it was cloudy, and the trucks didn't use their lights, so they were practically invisible to the normal eye. Though the Russians would have the technology to spot the vehicles anyway, it'd still make it harder for their spies.

It also made it harder to spot any spies, of course. But Ron and his friends would still try their best.

It had only been two days since Dumbledore had been informed of the adjusted power demands - so he must have been prepared for such an eventuality. That made Ron feel a little better about the whole thing. He hoped it would make Hermione feel better about her entirely understandable mistake, too.

"Have you spotted any tails?" he heard Luna ask through the radio.

"None as far as I can see," he replied, keying his microphone. But anyone following the trucks wouldn't be as obvious as to use the road - it's not as if this road led anywhere other than the lake resort. Hell, anyone with an old map would be able to guess the trucks' destination as soon as they turned on to this road. That didn't change the need to check the area, of course.

"My drones haven't spotted anyone, either," she replied.

"The workers have started unloading the cargo," Harry told them. Ron's friend was hidden at the resort. "I haven't seen anyone suspicious, yet."

"I haven't seen anyone at all," Hermione reported, and Ron suppressed a snort. She was staying in their room, hiding from everyone, and had even dismantled some of her gear so the workers installing the additional generators wouldn't find any sign of her presence.

They were doing this by the book and leaving nothing to chance.

And yet, all it would take to render their precautions useless would be one compromised man at the right spot in Phoenix Gruppe.

Well, they were preparing for that case as well, of course.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, October 25th, 2005**

"Finally!"

Upon hearing Hermione's exclamation, Ron looked up from the book he had been reading on their bed. "Did they finish installing the generators?"

She pushed back from the desk she had installed in their room and turned to face him. "They've finished installing the generator in my laboratory. Dumbledore just informed me."

That meant that the other five generators were still being installed in the garage and the new room formed out of the former pantry and the quarters next to it.

She was already gathering her notes. "We need to check the lab, first," he told her.

"What?"

"The workers could have planted a bug, or something worse." Dumbledore might have picked them, but that didn't mean they could be blindly trusted.

He saw her take a breath and open her mouth, but the expected retort didn't come. Instead, after a moment, she sighed. "Sorry. I've just been…" She trailed off.

"You've been stuck here with me, instead of in your lab," he finished for her with a nod.

"You aren't the problem!" she blurted out, then saw his grin and pouted. "But I can't run experiments here."

"And rituals would wreck the room."

"Yes."

He chuckled. "So much for the tales of tantric magic."

"That's actually real," she told him.

"What?"

"Yes. There is a tantric magical tradition in India." She was leaning against the desk, in lecture mode. "But it's mostly limited to fertility rituals."

"That makes sense, I guess." He nodded.

"Well, in theory, nothing would stop a practitioner from developing different tantric rituals - it's just that, compared to wands, rituals are generally both unwieldy and less effective, so what would be the point?" She shrugged. "Barring, of course, the case of being stranded in another world without your wand."

"Why get a horse if you can have a car, hm?" He closed his book.

"Well, just as horses can cope with certain terrain better than cars, there are areas where rituals are the best - or the only - choice."

"Oh?"

"Blood magic. Sacrificial magic." She wasn't smiling any more.

"Ah. Not a good alternative, then."

"There are rituals where the caster sacrifices some of their blood instead of animals or humans, but most countries treat all blood magic the same, so the practice is almost exclusively limited to dark wizards or the desperate," she explained.

He raised his eyebrows a little but didn't ask whether she was included among the desperate. From what he knew about the war she had fought, things had certainly been dire enough. "So, best you wait here while I go on a bug hunt." That way, she'd also be safe if someone had planted a bomb.

He knew that she didn't like it - but hiding her presence from the workers would have been pointless if she was caught on a hidden camera. Well, a hidden camera not controlled by Dumbledore or Luna.

After a brief kiss, he left the room and went to the lab.

Two hours later, he hadn't found any bugs or a bomb in the laboratory. That didn't mean the workers could be trusted, of course - any one of them could still be an informant for the Russians. But, for now, the laboratory was safe.

Hermione was at her desk, setting up her computers, two minutes after he let her know.

Pretty much as he had expected.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, October 27th, 2005**

"While I am not a picky eater, or spoiled - though Gellert would disagree, of course - I do think the dessert was a little… less than what it could have been," Dumbledore said as he put his fork down after finishing his slice of cake.

"Due to the need to install more generators, the kitchen crew lost their main pantry and had to relocate from their old quarters," Harry said. "That's bound to affect their work."

"Ah. This isn't an isolated occurrence, then?"

"No," Ron replied. The quality of the meals had gone down a little in the last few days.

The old man nodded. "I see. We can hope, then, that, as they get settled in and adapt to the changes, the meals will return to their former standard."

"Yes." Privately, Ron wasn't quite sure whether the drop in quality was, at least partially, not simply the kitchen crew venting their anger at having to move their stock and quarters. But the food was still decent, so it wasn't a significant problem.

"That said, I didn't come here to sample the food," Dumbledore said. "Although it certainly made the trip more pleasant."

"Did you find the mole?" Harry asked, leaning forward and pushing his half-eaten dessert out of the way.

"Alas, while the investigation continues, we haven't found a suspect yet - although we're still pursuing leads," the former spymaster replied. "No, I have come to inspect the work done - which seems to have been done to Dr Granger's satisfaction, if not, as you mentioned, to the cook's - and to inform you that my sources have confirmed that the Russians have been growing more active in Britain. They are expanding their network among the Russian expats, for one."

"Ah." Ron nodded. That was a logical step - there were a lot of rich Russian businessmen, many of them with a somewhat questionable past, living in London. He was about to ask if Dumbledore had any names when he noticed Luna stealing Harry's dessert and chuckled.

"However, the increased activity of the Russian intelligence assets in our country has also caught the attention of MI5. Which is both a blessing and a curse, I fear," Dumbledore continued, shaking his head - after a bemused glance at Luna.

"I guess we can't just assume anyone snooping around is a Russian spy, then," Sirius said. "So no shooting first and asking questions later."

"Something that should be standard policy in any case," Dumbledore pointed out. "You wouldn't believe the number of bird-watchers and hikers who ended up in police custody for a few hours after stumbling on to a secret facility during the Cold War. Unfortunately, we cannot exert the same pressure the government was able to bring to bear in those cases to make people keep quiet."

"That means we need to let intruders who might be mere tourists or hikers walk around or they will grow suspicious," Harry said. "Even if they might be Russian spies in disguise." It was clear he didn't like it.

"I'm afraid so," Dumbledore told him. "We'll have to trust our camouflage."

Which wouldn't really fool an experienced spy, Ron thought. Perfect.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, October 31st, 2005**

She was checking the power readings again, Ron noticed. On the generators, not just on the computer. Including the old generators, which had worked perfectly well for months. "Do you suspect sabotage?" he asked, rising from his usual spot on the bench.

"What?" Hermione turned to face him, stopping halfway to her desk.

He pointed at the generators. "You triple-checked them. Even though we went over the whole assembly yesterday, and you ran several tests."

"Oh." He saw her frown, then grimace. "I'm sorry. It's silly, but… it's Halloween."

Ron blinked. "Do you expect magical interference?" She hadn't mentioned that before.

She sighed and moved to sit down at her desk. "Not exactly. But back in my world, bad things tended to happen on Halloween. Mostly to Harry - his parents were murdered on Halloween in 1981 - but we were affected as well. The troll attack I told you about? That took place on Halloween in 1991. In 1992, the Basilisk's first attack happened on Halloween. In 1993, a break-in occurred that scared everyone - by Sirius. In 1994, Harry was forced into a dangerous tournament on Halloween."

That was an impressive series. "And in the other years?"

"Nothing special," she said, smiling weakly. "I told you, it's silly. But I'm always on edge on Halloween."

"So's Harry," he told her. "His parents were killed on Halloween as well, here."

"Yes, I know."

"Is Halloween a magically important date?" he asked. In a number of books he had read that was the case.

She shook her head. "It was an important date for rituals in the past, but modern Arithmancy has proved that that was merely superstition and tradition - if there is any magical significance to the date, then it's below the average influence of the planets on magic. Which is," she added with a huff, "negligible."

"Ah." He nodded. "So it's silly, but you'd rather be safe than sorry?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "I don't think that's silly. Just common sense. Especially since there are a lot of parallels between our worlds, and our Halloween quota hasn't been filled yet, I think."

She giggled at that, though it sounded forced. "There's also the fact that a power surge during the ritual would be quite dangerous."

"Ah." She hadn't mentioned that before. But it made sense. As much as magic could make sense, he guessed. "And with three times the generators, the risk of such a mishap has tripled?"

"More or less - it's not a straight multiplication, but such numbers are rarely as precise as they seem."

"'Lies, damned lies and statistics'?" he quoted.

"In certain cases." She sighed. "I've done what I could, so now all that remains is the actual ritual."

Which would use three times the power on the cage.

Ron did his best to smile encouragingly and confidently at her. Even though he felt more than a little queasy - sometimes, ignorance was bliss.

He stayed on his bench, too, while she performed the ritual. And hoped for the best.

* * *

"...and so the increased power is affecting the ritual as I expected!" Hermione said, beaming at him as she turned away from the screen. "I achieved a huge relative increase in duration."

"That's great!" Ron told her - although he had to take her word for it. He wouldn't have been able to tell from observing the ritual. "Although that's not much in absolute terms, is it?"

She frowned at him, and he laughed; she looked cute like that. "It's an exponential increase. That means scaling up will be easy."

"And dangerous," he pointed out.

She shook her head. "Not if the right precautions are taken."

Once more, he had to take her word for it. Although he trusted her not to jeopardise the entire laboratory. And everyone in the area, of course. "Baby steps."

"Essentially, yes. Increasing the power step by step, so to speak. Even though it's more complicated than that."

"It's magic and quantum physics," he said, shrugging. "It would be weird if it wasn't complicated."

"It's using well-founded concepts and established laws." She looked a little annoyed.

He couldn't resist. "Of magic," he said, nodding very slowly.

"Yes, exactly, the laws of..." She blinked, then shook her head, huffing. "Oh, you!"

He grinned in return. "Sorry. I blame the twins' influence when I was young and impressionable."

"I wonder how many times you blamed them when they were perfectly innocent."

"Perhaps once or twice?" He cocked his head at her.

"Per month or per week?"

"I wish," he said, laughing. "They are two years older, and there are two of them." He hadn't gotten back at them nearly as often as they had managed to get him.

"That's another parallel," she said. "I wonder…"

Luna's voice on Ron's comm interrupted her. "Ron! We've got a contact near the lake!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Ron had found the contact - well, there hadn't been much searching involved, not with Luna keeping them in her drone's field of vision. But a drone, especially if it had to be kept at a distance to avoid being seen, could only do so much. Taking a look with his own eyes was still the best way to investigate, in Ron's opinion. Even if it was dangerous at times.

But this wasn't one of those times - the man, and it was a man, was alone. Dressed like a serious hiker, with a high-end camera; the size of the lens made Ron want to crack a joke about compensating for something. He also was certain that the man was a member of an amateur ornithologist club - the book he was consulting every few minutes was probably the 'Atlas of Breeding Birds in Britain and Ireland'.

And he was almost as certain that it was a cover. The man was a little too fit and didn't have the build of a hiker, from what Ron could tell from his vantage spot hidden in the underbrush on a nearby slope. But most importantly, when Harry, on the other side of their visitor, had scared up a few ravens, the man hadn't watched the birds, but the ground.

That wasn't a bird-watcher's reflex.

"I think that's a spy," he whispered into his comm.

"Drat," Luna answered. "What do we do?"

There wasn't much they could do. If the man didn't return from this trip, his handlers or partners would know that this was a location of interest. And none of Ron's friends could show themselves - the Russians knew about them and would recognise them. Well, so would half of Britain after all the news reports about the whole affair.

"We'll have to let Filch's people handle it," Ron said. As planned. Harry grunted his assent - Ron's friend really didn't like letting known criminals or threats walk away - and Ron switched the channel to Filch's. "Young-to-middle aged man, trained. He's all yours."

"Copy," Filch replied. "We'll send him off."

"Understood." Ron kept watching as the man slowly made his way down to the shore. They couldn't intervene too early - if the people posing as the caretakers of the resort showed that they had detected the intruder at this distance from the resort, they might as well admit that they were guarding a top-secret facility.

He knew that, but he still loathed seeing the spy walk along the shore, even taking samples of the water. Well, the water should be fine - there was nothing suspicious in there. Although… perhaps they should have planted some chemicals in it to throw people off and make them think this was a chemical research facility? On the other hand, the Russians were unlikely to know or even assume that Hermione's research was environmentally friendly.

But since the man was now on the shore, it wouldn't be implausible to have a caretaker notice them from the resort's location. After some time, of course.

The man was good, Ron had to admit ten minutes later as a small boat was approaching. He wasn't acting as if he was in the wrong, but just standing at the shore, waiting, as if he hadn't a care in the world.

"I'm patching you into their radio channel," Luna announced. "Don't say anything, though - they don't know I've gotten in to their network."

They probably did, in Ron's opinion. Or suspected. Dumbledore certainly must. Although his men might not be aware. Or not all of them. He switched his microphone to push-to-talk and waited a little longer.

"Hello!"

"Hello, sir," Filch's man said in a heavy Glaswegian accent. "I'm afraid to say that is private property."

"Oh? I didn't notice. There was no sign."

"It's been a derelict resort for a couple decades. We're still refurbishing it for the new owner. But they were clear that this lake was private. As are the woods around it."

"Oh. What a pity. It has the most fascinating birds." Ron saw the man pull out and open his book. "See here? This species is really rare!"

"I don't know much about birds," Filch's man replied.

"Oh, it's a fascinating hobby! Did you know…"

Ron gritted his teeth as the spy launched into a spiel about ornithology that Ron was certain had been chosen to be as dull as possible. The intruder was good indeed.

* * *

"...and we tailed him to his car. We got the plates, but we haven't run them through the system yet," Harry said. He looked tired - but that was to be expected after having spent several hours trekking through the Highlands.

"They won't lead anywhere. The man was too smooth to be an amateur," Ron replied.

"Even experienced people make mistakes," Harry retorted. "And if they're fake, then we'll know he was a spy."

They were already operating under that assumption, but Ron didn't say so. Harry deserved some justification for his efforts.

"What do we do now?" Hermione asked.

"Prepare for the worst, hope for the best," Ron told her.

"And make sure that we'll never go on such a hike again. I'm a cavalry officer. If I wanted to walk for hours, I'd have joined the bloody infantry!" Sirius exclaimed, then groaned. The older man looked worse than Harry - almost exhausted.

Hermione glanced at him, then turned her head towards Ron again. "And what are those?"

"Best case: The spy bought our act and thinks this is merely a resort. Worst case: The Russians launch an assault on the lab," Harry replied.

"How likely is that?" Ginny asked.

"Not as unlikely as we'd like," Sirius said. "If they can get plausible deniability and at the same time let us know that it was retaliation for the attack on Kirikov…" He shrugged, then winced and rubbed his shoulder.

"Plausible deniability and claiming responsibility?" Luna shook her head. "Another sign of how far the government keeping secrets has corrupted our policies."

"Well, I'd rather not be known publicly as a dimension travelling witch," Hermione commented.

"Well, that's your privacy, which needs to be protected," Luna replied with a serious expression. "But the government needs to be accountable, and official secrets hinder this and help to hide their crimes."

"In any case, we should prepare for an assault," Ron interjected before Luna led them off on a tangent.

"Haven't we been doing that all along?" Ginny asked. "We've been training every day. Well, most of us."

Hermione didn't react to the comment, but Ron frowned at Ginny anyway. "We'll have to be more careful when training. If we're caught out in the forest, we'd be easy targets."

"And we have less of a need for secrecy now that Dumbledore knows about magic," Hermione added.

Ron nodded. Though he'd miss their evening strolls along the lake. And keeping some of their training a secret from Dumbledore was just being prepared for the _other _worst case. But needs must, in this situation. "By staying out of sight, we also make it harder for the enemy to use heavy weapons without risking Hermione being accidentally killed," he pointed out.

"Unless Putin decides that if he can't have her, no one will," Sirius retorted.

That was a rather sobering thought. Depressing as well.

"We'll have to take that risk," Ron said before Hermione could say anything. "And there isn't much they can do to kill us all easily if they want to blame 'terrorists'."

"And what if they drop a plane on us?" Ginny asked.

"Sneaking in a plane big enough to actually threaten the lower levels here?" Harry shook his head. "The planes are tracked - and the RAF is ready to intercept planes in case of hijacking."

Ron would still feel a little safer if Dumbledore moved some anti-aircraft missiles to the site, but that was a very long shot. He shook his head at his unintentional pun.

"And if the Russians attack, what do we do?" Ginny asked.

"Hole up as a last line of defence, and hope reinforcements arrive before they reach us," Sirius said.

"Or evacuate through Hermione's portal, if it's ready by then," Luna added.

"That won't be the case for at least several weeks _if _everything goes perfectly - which never happens," Hermione was quick to point out.

"You can't launch an attack on Britain in a few days, either," Sirius replied. "Not if you want it to have a better chance of success than the attacks we've already seen off."

Hermione nodded, and Ron suppressed a sigh. More pressure on her.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 13th, 2005**

The flickering glint in the centre of the quantum mirror cage lasted a second. And it was large enough that Ron could almost make out something darker in the middle. Something that didn't shine as brightly. With some imagination, it might be seen as a ring. Like one that would form a portal.

"That looks like progress," he commented, then blinked as he turned to look at Hermione. "How much power did you feed to the cage this time?"

"About a third of the theoretical potential, but the real limiter is the ritual," she replied. "Why?"

"Your hair." He gestured. "It's all… poofy." It was doing its best to form a cloud around her head, from what he could tell, and her ponytail had been utterly wrecked in the process.

"Ack." She ran her hands through her hair as she went back to her desk, but to no avail - she didn't even manage to get the hair back into a ponytail.

"Is that a side effect?" He asked. And was it dangerous?

"Just some leaking power," she replied. "I'll have to adjust the formula a bit better to compensate."

He wanted to ask how much 'some' was - and how much more might leak like that.

Apparently, he didn't have to voice his thoughts since she went on: "That's why I'm taking baby steps and slowly increasing the power as I adjust the ritual, even though I could take far larger steps - the formula is now sound and tested. In principle."

"There's no need to rush things," he agreed. "It's almost been two weeks since the spy visited, with no follow-up, as far as we can tell." The plates had been registered to a false identity - which at least had confirmed that the man had been a spy.

"Didn't you just tell Ginny yesterday evening that growing complacent after a week or two was a typical mistake amateurs made?" she retorted, raising her eyebrows. Which had also been affected by the power leakage.

Busted. He shrugged with a grin. "Well, yes. But there's still no need to rush," he insisted.

She nodded, but he didn't know if she took it to heart. She was still feeling guilty for problems that weren't in any way her fault.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 15th, 2005**

"...and it's now mostly a matter of steadily and safely increasing the power until the portal reaches a size and duration that makes travel practicable," Hermione finished her explanation.

"That sounds easy!" Luna said, nodding several times.

"It's not," Hermione retorted with a frown. "The ritual's formula is so complex, any increase in power fed to it requires adjustments to multiple, often very diverse factors, to compensate. It's not as simple as increasing a value to compensate for an increased different value."

"Magic isn't that logical," Ron added. "But even when it comes to technology, scaling up a process often takes a long time." At least if you did it safely.

"Exactly. I'd rather only risk my hairstyle instead of my life - or yours." Hermione nodded firmly.

"A good stance, in my humble opinion," Dumbledore said as he put down his cup of tea. "I also have good news for you: The Russians seem to be focusing on one of our decoy sites."

Ron frowned. He had almost forgotten about that plan. "I don't recall hearing about suspicious visits to other sites."

"Need to know, Mr Weasley. Besides, people are generally more motivated to adhere to security guidelines and remain prepared when they think an attack is imminent. At least that is what I've observed with my own employees."

For Dumbledore, that was a slightly less subtle admonishment than his usual style, Ron noticed.

"We're better than that," Harry told him.

"Without question," the old man told them with a patronising smile. "However, better safe than sorry, as the saying goes." He refilled his cup. "I've also successfully diverted MI5's attention to the same location."

"Won't they be angry with you once they realise that it's a decoy?" Luna asked. "MI5, not the Russians."

"Oh, they wouldn't expect me to keep my valuable weapons research at a threatened location," Dumbledore replied. "At least they shouldn't, unless standards have really slipped since I quit Her Majesty's employment. Although since they are already tracking several Russian operatives that have entered the country in the last week using various cover stories, I daresay that they won't feel too annoyed."

Apart from being annoyed that they'd owe the old man another favour or three. And that Dumbledore had once more demonstrated his superiority, Ron would guess. The man was brilliant, but a little too arrogant, in his opinion, even though he tried his best to be jovial and friendly. Unless that was an act as well.

"So everything is going according to plan?" Sirius asked.

"It seems so," Dumbledore replied.

"That's usually when things start to go really wrong," Harry's godfather replied.

"We shall see. Perhaps we will be positively surprised."

Ron snorted. As if.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 16th, 2005**

Ron was about to head to bed - Hermione was still in the bathroom, showering after their workout - when someone started knocking on their door. "Ron! Hermione!"

That was Luna's voice. And she sounded agitated. "Yes?" Ron replied.

"It's starting - the Russians are moving on the decoy site in Wales!"

What? Ron jumped out of bed and opened the door. "How do you know?"

"I've got access to the information sent here to Dumbledore."

"Ah." He turned around. "Hermione!"

She stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in her pyjamas. "I heard."

Five minutes and a quick change of clothes later, Ron and Hermione entered Dumbledore's private quarters - for the first time. They were smaller than he'd expected, and looked more comfortable than stylish, though a huge TV screen showed four different camera feeds - all focusing on a square-looking building at night. Dumbledore, sitting in a leather armchair, and Luna, standing next to him, were both watching attentively.

"What's happening?" Ron asked.

"Wait a minute. The infiltrators should arrive on screen any moment now," the old man told them.

"Infiltrators?"

"The Russian operatives MI5 and my security have been tracking for several days."

"It's a trap," Luna said.

Ron had to chuckle at that.

"What's going on?" Sirius entered, followed by Harry and Ginny, who looked like they had been called while they were still in the shower.

Instead of answering, Dumbledore hit a few keys on his laptop, and one of the images on the screen grew, replacing all the others. A number of figures became visible on the enhanced picture. Figures trying to break into the building.

"The authorities should be making their move about now," Dumbledore commented. "Before my own people are forced to defend themselves."

As if on cue, the figures suddenly were illuminated by several flashlights. A firefight broke out at once as they fired on the lights, and MI5's people - well, soldiers from the looks of it - returned fire.

Sirius shook his head at the sight. "They're caught in the open, surrounded by forces under cover. Only idiots would resist in that situation."

Indeed, the figures were falling, one after another. MI5 didn't seem to be pulling punches - then again, after the London attacks, that was kind of understandable. Although… "Isn't this happening a little too fast?" Shouldn't those be elite operatives?

"Indeed. I would have expected more…"

Dumbledore was interrupted by the distant sound of an explosion, followed by sirens.

"Someone's attacking us!" Harry yelled. "The attack on the decoy site was a feint!"

* * *

"_Here they come again!" she heard Harry yell, followed by explosions. She forced herself to ignore the noise, to suppress the urge to rush out and help them. She had to focus on the ritual. They needed to find the last Horcrux. A sob almost ruined the last chant, but she managed to finish._

_For a moment, nothing happened. Had she failed anyway? Or was there no Horcrux in the Room of Requirement?_

_Then she felt the familiar tug. Yes. "I'm getting it!" she yelled, standing up and starting to hurry towards the back of the room, following the tug of the ritual._

_An explosion shook the entire room, throwing her against a pile of broken furniture. She cried out when splinters pierced her skin, then gasped - the entire area around the entrance was covered in dust and smoke. "Harry! Ron!"_

_They stumbled back, out of the smoke - curses flashing past them. Ron's Shield Charm lit up when a spell splashed against it. "Bastards came through the ceiling!" he yelled, rolling to the side._

"_Go!" Harry shouted, wand moving as he sent a few curses back through the smoke._

_She pushed herself up, using a damaged cabinet to steady herself, and rushed on, ducking as more curses flew above her head._

_She was close now. So close._


	32. Chapter 32: The Assault

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 32: The Assault**

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 16th, 2005**

As far as Ron could tell, Dumbledore's only visible reaction was a slight frown as he said: "It seems we have unexpected visitors." He tilted his head and pushed a button. "Argus?"

"Sir! Someone's attacking the building!" Filch's voice came from a hidden speaker. "We've lost contact with the patrols and the entrance team."

Ron suppressed a hiss. That was worse than he had feared.

"Are we re-enacting Eben-Emael?" Sirius asked.

Ron took a second to place the reference. The Belgian fortress, taken by German paratroopers landing on top of it in World War II.

"I hope not," Dumbledore replied. "We do have more options than the Belgians did." The old man was still infuriatingly calm.

"If they've taken out the patrols and the guards at the entrance, then they're already inside the building." Harry pointed out the obvious.

"They'll need to go through several choke points before they reach this level," Dumbledore countered. "However, I think it would be prudent to arm ourselves - just in case." He nodded towards Hermione. "You have your armoury with you."

Had the old spymaster arranged all of this to see the bag of holding in action? No. But he certainly took advanatge of the opportunity as soon as it appeared. Although it wasn't as if they had any choice - and Dumbledore was already aware of the bag's potential, anyway.

Hermione must have come to the same conclusion since she quickly started pulling out weapons, ammunition and bulletproof vests.

"Fascinating. Is the diameter of the opening its only limit?"

"No, the internal space is extended, but its capacity is definitely limited," Hermione replied.

"Technically limited, I presume," Dumbledore said. He hadn't moved to arm himself - though Ron was sure that the old man was already carrying a pistol. Not the best choice for a firefight - but then, while Dumbledore was quite fit for his age, he was nevertheless in his eighties.

Ron grabbed his favourite assault rifle and the spare mags Hermione was pulling out. Harry, Sirius and the others did likewise. "Let's hope Filch remembers more about fighting than he does about military manners," Sirius mumbled.

"Oh, he does remember both," Dumbledore commented. "He is, however, quite selective about when he uses either."

Sirius scoffed in return. "Typical."

Ron ignored the exchange and looked at Luna and Ginny gearing up. They had trained for this - specifically indoor fighting, in fact, over the last few days stuck inside - but they weren't trained soldiers or police officers. But how to tell them to stay back without triggering a row? "Is there a secret escape tunnel?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, we haven't quite finished the emergency exit into the lake - the airlock required hasn't yet been delivered," Dumbledore replied. "And the excavation work for a tunnel hasn't progressed very far, either." He tilted his head and sighed. "It was deemed to be too much of a security risk to involve too many workers in either - in hindsight, a bad decision, though quite understandable at the time."

"Great. We're trapped like rats," Harry commented.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Not exactly."

Ron turned to face her, frowning. She couldn't be thinking...

"You plan to activate your portal?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

"I'd rather not," she told him. "It's very dangerous. But if the alternative is getting captured or killed by Russian spies…"

"I vote for the portal!" Luna piped up.

"Won't that take too long, anyway?" Harry asked. But he was glancing at Ginny, Ron noticed.

"An hour is about the minimum," Hermione replied.

"Then you'd better start now," Sirius said. "Luna and Ginny can guard you."

Ron's sister opened her mouth to protest, but Dumbledore spoke up before she could say anything. "I think the laboratory will make for a good last line of defence. I will relocate there as well, to coordinate our efforts."

"If someone disturbs me while I'm performing the ritual, the consequences will be catastrophic," Hermione pointed out. "I'll need guards."

There wasn't much Ginny could say in the face of that. She tried anyway, of course, as they moved to Hermione's lab. "You don't need two guards - Ron was always the only guard in the lab."

"We weren't under attack, then," he pointed out.

"And how could anyone get past you? If I'm with you, the odds are better that no one will get past us in the first place!"

"Ginny," Harry said, "Luna's needed for surveillance, Dumbledore for coordination, Hermione does the ritual. You're the only one left to protect them,"

"But…" She was shaking her head, lips pressed together, tears in her eyes.

If this weren't about fighting Russian secret agents, Ron would've been moved to give in.

But as things were? Ginny and Luna stayed with Hermione and Dumbledore while Ron, Harry and Sirius went up a level to join the defenders.

There, Filch's men - a dozen that Ron could see - were setting up firing positions that reminded him far too much of the opening scene of Star Wars.

"I take it that the ground floor has been lost, then," Sirius commented.

Filch glared at him from where he was directing the rest but nodded curtly. "The survivors are falling back to the staircase."

"We won't be able to hold the stairs," Sirius replied. "They can just chuck grenades down at us."

As if to underline his words, they heard an explosion from upstairs.

Filch bared his teeth. "I know. But we can slow them down a little more. Reinforcements are on the way, and every minute counts."

And would be paid for in blood, Ron thought. But at least the staircases were split - the one connecting the first of the basement floors with the ground floor and the upper floors was on the other end from the one leading to the lower basement floors and Hermione's lab. They had more room to set up here.

"The lift shaft is a weakness," Sirius said.

"Mined," Filch snapped back.

"Ah."

Ron couldn't help glancing at the lift in question. That was a radical solution.

"Is the garage secure?" Harry asked. It was a good question, Ron felt. If the additional generators were taken out, Hermione's escape plan would be doomed from the start.

"We've got two vehicles there, covering the entrances," Filch reported. "And the gates are reinforced."

"And the enemy, as far as we can tell, isn't focusing on the garage. Either an oversight, or they do not wish to split their forces," Dumbledore's voice sounded through the radio. "However, that might not remain the case for long. Also, they are quickly overwhelming the remaining security staff on the ground floor. Pull them back, Argus."

"Yes, sir."

As Filch gave the command, Ron looked around. The men were set up well, in his opinion. And the stairs and lift were choke points, both covered from all angles. They were even hastily setting up Claymore mines. Pushing through here wouldn't be quick or easy.

Sirius must have come to the same conclusion. "We'll reinforce the garage," he said, "and serve as reserves."

Filch grunted in return, his eyes focused on the door to the stairs, where three men, one being carried, entered. "Close it!" one of them yelled. "There's no one left alive up top!"

A moment later, massive doors slid shut behind them.

"Medic's set up in the infirmary below. Drop Palmer there and come back!" Filch snapped before glancing at them.

"Let's move!" Sirius told them, striding back to the stairs.

In the garage, things weren't looking quite as good. Two vehicles - the armoured SUVs they had used on the trip to meet their parents - had been driven into the centre of the garage, facing the gates, but the four men inside them were wielding assault rifles and were ready to fire out of the windows.

"Even a technical would be better than this," Sirius muttered. "At least they have set up in a way that won't draw fire to the generators. Let's set up the machine guns. The support pillars will hamper our field of fire, but it's the best way to stop a rush through the gates."

"What if they come through the roof?" Harry asked.

"We'll set up at the entrance to the stairs," Sirius said. "That should keep us safe enough to fall back."

"I've got a drone up in the air," Luna announced through their radios while they were using another armoured car to set up. "They're still focusing on the building, I think."

Tunnel vision? Sticking with the plan no matter what? Or was it another feint? Ron had no idea, but he glanced at the ceiling. Shaped charges would go through it, if they were powerful enough - or if you used enough. And the Russians were always ready to use brute force.

Another explosion, far stronger than a mere grenade, rang out - behind them.

"They've blown the doors on the topmost basement floor!" Luna told them.

Ron glanced at Harry and Sirius. "Should we…?"

"Not yet," Sirius said. "Dumbledore will tell us if we're needed back there."

"So far my men are holding," they heard Dumbledore say - he was listening to Luna's channel, Ron realised. "Although they've already lost two men in the exchange. The enemy fared worse, however."

"How many men do they have, anyway? Did they sneak in an entire company?" Sirius complained. "Were the RAF and the Royal Navy asleep on the job?"

"I doubt they arrived legally in the country. Probably dropped out of an unsuspicious cargo plane with fake freight papers flying over Scotland," Harry replied.

Ron wouldn't have expected Putin to go so far. On the other hand, after 9/11 and the large-scale hostage incidents in Russia, 'terrorists' could be blamed for a lot. Still, there would be consequences for this, Ron was sure of it.

Not that that would matter much if they couldn't hold out until relieved. The Russians would be aware that reinforcements were on the way, though - that would explain their stubbornness in the face of mounting casualties.

Still, trying to press a charge through a choke point? That made walking towards the German lines in the Somme look like a smart plan. And Putin wasn't dumb. "They'll come through here, too," he said. "Luna, can you see movement near the garage? Or above us?"

"Uh… the doors are clear… oh. There are a few people above you. Placing… a bomb!"

Damn.

"Move back!" Sirius yelled. "They're going to blow the ceiling!" He was already dropping into the armoured SUV, closing the roof as if it were a tank's hatch. Harry simply pulled his rifle back inside the car and ducked, but Ron was caught in the open - between the car and the door behind him.

Cursing, he whirled and sprinted towards the door. He had almost reached it when the ceiling exploded, and the shock wave threw him down on to the ground, knocking the breath out of him. He rolled to the side, gasping as concrete fragments dropped down all around him and a cloud of dust engulfed him, barely managing to keep a grip on his rifle.

Hacking and coughing, he scrambled up, holding one arm over his head, and stumbled forward, towards the door. Or where he thought the door was - he couldn't see anything. He stumbled over something on the ground - debris, as he found when he fell on hard, jagged concrete - and once more rolled across the floor. But he had hit the wall, which meant he could use it as a guide as he crawled towards the door.

Shots started to ring out, followed by screams. From above.

"They're firing down. And they're rappelling!" Luna announced. "Ron! Are you OK?"

"I'm alright," he blurted out as he reached the door and slid around it, into the staircase behind. No one had shot at him, or if they had, he hadn't noticed.

The dust was starting to settle, and Ron could make out movement above - in the giant hole left in the ceiling. He raised his rifle, leaned against the corner, and took aim.

His first burst missed, and the man sliding down the line vanished behind a car before Ron could fire again. But he caught the next attacker as he pushed off from the roof, leaving the man dangling limply from the rope.

Sirius was back - Ron recognised the sound of the machine gun - but as he searched for another target, he saw that one of the cars Dumbledore's men had set up had been crushed by a massive part of the ceiling that hadn't broken up. That didn't look like… Movement!

Ron aimed at a figure running through the dissipating dust cloud, towards the second car in the centre of the garage. But if that was a survivor… A burst cut the man down, rendering the point moot without revealing his identity.

"Bloody hell! How many are there?" Sirius cursed over the radio. "New belt! Need a new belt!"

Ron caught another attacker rappelling down, but only winged the man, and then had to duck back around the corner when someone started firing at the door. "They're assembling on the floor!" he yelled.

"I need to reload!" Sirius yelled back. "Finally!"

Once more, the machine gun rang out.

"Gotcha, bastard!"

A moment later, the second SUV on their side vanished in an explosion.

"RPG!" Harry announced.

"Where?"

Ron exposed himself, frantically searching for the shooter. How long did it take to reload an RPG launcher? They'd take out Sirius and Harry next - or Ron himself.

There! A man was rising behind concrete debris, aiming a rocket launcher. Ron fired while moving, emptying his magazine. The recoil sent most bullets into the ceiling, but he managed to control the rifle long enough to hit the gunner. The Russian jerked, stumbling back, and started to fall.

And pulled the trigger, sending the rocket-propelled grenade flying - directly towards the generators in the corner.

Ron's eyes widened, and he threw himself to the ground moments before the grenade exploded. He jumped up at once, ignoring the pain in his side and leg - falling down on concrete debris hurt, even if you were wearing a vest - and reloaded his rifle as he fell back.

"Bloody hell!" he cursed - one generator was wrecked. Worse, Ron could see fire spreading around it - the explosion must have torn up the fuel lines. "We need to get out!" he yelled. "It's on fire!"

"What?" Luna asked. "Oh, no! The generators!"

So much for the portal, Ron thought as he crouched near the door and started to lay down some covering fire. "Pull back! Pull back!"

The door of the armoured car was pushed open, and Harry jumped out, rolling over his shoulder. He came up firing, using the door as cover. Behind him, Sirius followed, dragging the machine gun with him.

Someone started shooting at them, and Ron shifted his fire - then had to reload. But it was enough for Sirius to dash across the gap between the car and the debris in front of the door, and a moment later, he was back to shooting.

The fire was spreading quickly, though - it had already engulfed all the generators and was moving towards the closest cars. Ron could feel the heat of the approaching flames. "Harry!" he yelled.

His friend looked at him, then turned and started to sprint towards him. Bullets struck the ground near his legs.

Ron emptied his magazine in the direction from which the shots had come, but couldn't even see the shooter. He didn't think Sirius saw them, either. But if they made the enemy duck for even a second…

Harry screamed and fell, rolling across the ground, his rifle flying from his hands and sliding across the floor.

"Harry!" Sirius screamed.

"Cover me!" Ron yelled and jumped up, firing the last of his bullets blindly as he rushed towards his friend. Harry was on the ground, with no or minimal cover - and exposed to enemy fire. He was moving, but slowly - and there was blood pooling on the ground.

"Damn!"

Ron let go of his rifle, letting it dangle from the sling, and pulled out a smoke grenade as he jumped over a larger piece of debris. Bullets started to hit the ground and rubble near him, and he threw himself into a combat roll to throw off the enemy's aim. His rifle was jerked around in the process, hitting his knee hard enough for him to yell with pain, and almost got stuck between two bent pieces of rebar. He managed to pull it off, though, and lobbed the smoke grenade behind Harry before dropping to the floor. Trying to ignore the pain in his leg, he crawled towards his friend as thick, black smoke started to fill the area.

Sirius finally got his machine gun reloaded and added suppressive fire - at least Ron hoped he did; he couldn't see anything in the smoke. But he could hear Sirius's gun and he just had to go straight to reach Harry.

Just a few more yards.

Something struck his forehead, hard, and for a terrifying moment, he thought he had been shot dead. But he didn't die, even though blood was running down the side of his face. A glancing blow, then, or a concrete fragment sent flying by a bullet.

He crawled on, another yard, then another… and then his hand didn't meet hard, jagged concrete, but something softer. "Harry!"

"Ron?"

"I've got you!" Ron quickly shifted his position, groaning at the pain in his knee, and wiped some blood from his head before he grabbed Harry under the shoulders. "Let's get out of here!"

The smoke wouldn't last forever, and if the attackers kept firing into the thick of it, they would hit them sooner or later,

"You know the way?" Harry asked, far too weakly. "I seem to have gotten lost a bit."

"Don't joke about that," Ron shot back as he heaved and dragged his friend over a broken square of concrete.

They were about halfway back to the door, and the smoke hadn't grown any thinner yet. Perhaps they'd get lucky, for once.

Then Ron felt the heat and gasped. The smoke hadn't grown thinner because the fire from the generators was about to reach them! "Bloody hell!" he cursed, frantically pulling at Harry. "Hurry! The fire's about to reach us!"

"Fuck!" Harry spat. "Ron…"

Ron cut him off. "Shut up and crawl, damn it!"

The heat was growing worse. And Sirius's machine gun had fallen silent again. Were those flames he could see to his right? Flickering over the floor, trailing the leaking fuel?

"Leave me!" Harry groaned. "Save yourself!"

"Fuck you!" Ron shot back. He screamed with frustration and pain as he stopped crawling and crouched, then pulled Harry on to his shoulder. "Just shut up!"

His knee hurt like hell, and he yelled even more when he rose, but he managed to stand up with Harry over his shoulder. Yes, those were flames reaching for them. He tried to run - but his knee didn't let him. He almost collapsed, then forced himself to go on, limping and stumbling towards Sirius, screaming all the way.

A figure appeared in the smoke. Ron reached for his pistol, almost dropping Harry, before he recognised Sirius.

"I've got you!"

Ron felt himself pulled forward, then pushed from behind, Harry's weight growing lighter, and stumbled on. He was pulled to the side after a few steps, then pushed forward again, then crashed into something - a railing.

"Close the door!" he heard Sirius yell. "The fire's almost in the staircase!"

Ron turned - the smoke was lighter, less dense here - dragging Harry, who had slid from his shoulder but was still clinging to it, along just in time to see the door close behind them.

Then he did drop his friend as he collapsed in a coughing fit. "Sirius!" he managed to blurt out as he spat and coughed, "Get him to Hermione!"

"Harry! Oh my God! Harry!"

Ron blinked. That sounded like Ginny. But she was…

"Drink this! Drink it!"

Oh.

Ron leaned against the wall and slowly started to slide down to the floor. His sister had brought potions. Smart. Should've thought of that.

He tried to snort, which turned into another coughing fit, before someone grabbed his head and he felt a vial on his lips.

"Drink, Ron!"

The potion tasted awful, but his pain vanished at once.

Well, most of it vanished. His knee still hurt. Harry, though… Ron forced himself to stand and check on his friend. Ginny was kneeling next to him, cutting away parts of Harry's trousers to check on his thigh wound. "How is he?"

"I'm fine," Harry whispered. He didn't look fine, of course - he was pale, and Ron didn't think he could stand.

"You're not fine!" Ginny spat. She turned her head to look at Ron and Sirius. "We need to get him down to the laboratory so we can feed him another potion."

"Alright," Sirius agreed at once. "It's not as if the Russians will be able to attack through the fire raging in the garage, so this flank's secure."

"For the moment," Ron said.

"Long enough," the older man replied. "By the time the fire dies down, we'll be dead or safe."

Ron chuckled at that - morbid or not, it was correct.

They grabbed Harry by the arms and pulled him up, ignoring his protests that he could walk if they just gave him a moment.

A minute later, they entered the laboratory, where Hermione was still performing the ritual. Which depended on power she wouldn't have access to, Ron realised. "Bloody hell!" he mumbled. Could he tell her? Would that distract her enough to mess up the ritual anyway? But if he didn't tell her, would that be worse?

"Ron! Are you alright?" Luna asked, interrupting his thoughts. "You're bleeding!"

He swallowed his first response. This wasn't Luna's fault. None of it was. "I'm alright," he said. "Potion fixed it. But Harry…" He glanced over his shoulder.

Ginny was offering a potion to his friend. "Drink!"

"We should save it for emergencies," Harry replied.

"This is an emergency, you idiot!" she hissed.

"Drink it, Harry. We're still under attack," Sirius chimed in.

"Oh, yes," Luna told them. "They're still fighting upstairs."

Ron tried to ignore them. Tell Hermione, or not? So far, they hadn't talked during any of the rituals. But… it couldn't be too bad, or she would've taken more precautions, wouldn't she? He walked up to the ritual circle. At least if this was a mistake, he'd be right at her side. He noticed her eyes tracking him as he approached. "The generators in the garage are gone," he whispered.

She seemed to grow tense for a moment, though she never stopped moving her hands and mumbling syllables in a language he couldn't quite place as she nodded.

He took a step back, hesitated, then took a few more steps back. She didn't seem to be panicking, so it should be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn't just stay and watch her, though. He turned away, glancing at Harry. His friend was about to be force-fed a potion - a Blood-Replenishing Potion, Ron recognised the colour of the vial - by Ginny. He'd be okay then.

Ron headed towards Dumbledore. The old man was sitting at Hermione's desk, although he was using a laptop of his own. And there was another laptop there - presumably Luna's.

"How are we doing?"

"Adequate, so far - despite their numerical superiority, the enemy hasn't managed to breach our lines of defence."

"Yet," Ron felt compelled to add. The Russians would've broken through in the garage if not for the fire.

"We need but hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive," Dumbledore replied.

"And how long will that be?" Ron asked.

"About half an hour, at most," Dumbledore told him.

That wasn't good news. Ron was about to say so, but he noticed Luna approaching them. "Helicopters?" he asked instead.

"Yes. Not armed helicopters, unfortunately - Her Majesty's Government frowns on private companies using attack helicopters."

"With good reason!" Luna interjected. "If you could take over by force of arms, you wouldn't have to bribe the government any more!"

Dumbledore laughed at that. "Quite, Miss Lovegood. How is the situation up top?"

"Oh. One moment." She took a peek at her own laptop. "Apart from the fire burning in the garage, which has driven away the people trying to enter there, unchanged."

"Then I fear they will focus on breaking through the stairs with renewed vigour," the old spymaster told them. "They, too, will be aware that they will soon run out of time."

"Bloody Russians," Ron muttered. "Then we better get back up top to help hold them off." He turned to Ginny. "You keep guard here."

"Like hell I will!" she yelled at him. "I'm coming with you! We trained for this, and I'm not going to hold back whoever gets past you by myself!"

"They have to go through the massive door, first," Ron pointed out.

"They'll just blow it up."

"I'm afraid I have to agree with that assessment," Dumbledore cut in. "They had shaped charges to get through the garage's roof - they will have more of them to get through the doors inside."

"And I can deal out potions!" Ginny told him. "You almost died without me."

Before Ron could refute that, Luna hefted a rifle. "I'm coming too," she said. "At this point, aerial surveillance is not very important any more, and Mr Dumbledore can keep an eye on my screen."

Ron glanced at Hermione, just to check if she suddenly wanted to join as well, but she was still performing the ritual. Stuck doing it, as far as he knew. But to take Ginny and Luna with them...

"Time's running out!" Luna told him.

"She's right. Let's move," Sirius said. "Before we get defeated in detail."

Ron glanced at Harry, but his friend only nodded with gritted teeth. Ron muttered a curse and turned towards the stairs. At the very least, he'd do all he could to stay between Ginny and Luna and the enemy.

Upstairs looked like a scene out of a war movie - on the losing side. Filch and three others were the only ones left fighting, or so it seemed, and they were in or at the doorway, shooting from behind improvised barricades. Half a dozen others were on the floor, unconscious or dead at first glance. Damn.

"We need to push them back!" Sirius yelled. "We're too concentrated here - that's begging for a grenade."

Filch leaned back into cover and snarled. "Tell that to the enemy; they're not cooperating!"

Sirius snorted and crouched down, getting his machine gun ready. "Well, let's see what…"

"Grenade!" one of the guards yelled, shooting wildly. "Got him!" the man yelled, followed by an explosion on the enemy side.

"Ah, shooting them before they can throw," Sirius said. "That we can help with." He leaned around the corner and fired several bursts at the other side.

Ron used the opportunity to speed-crawl past the door, to the other side. He got up and started firing around the corner as well. "Come on, Harry!"

His friend joined him a few seconds later. Luna stayed with Sirius, but, of course, Ginny followed Harry. Damn. She should have stayed on the other side - easier to fall back to the basement from there. And supplying Sirius with enough belts for his machine gun would occupy both her and Luna.

But the enemy's fire grew stronger. Filch yelled: "Prepare for a push!" And Ron no longer had the time to send Ginny back. Instead, he had to duck before moving forward behind a toppled sturdy metal table with some thick planks piled up behind it.

It was a decent, but not perfect, barricade - ahead of Ron, a bullet punched through it. A moment later, one of the remaining guards fell down, yelling and holding his bleeding leg. Ron cursed again and stood, snapping off a few quick shots before ducking down again.

This was getting worse with every second. Sirius had already gone through a belt and was reloading with Luna's help.

"Grenade!" someone yelled, and Ron felt as if his blood froze in his veins. He got up, rifle firing, but the Russian had managed to get into position on the side, and Ron's bullets hit him after he had already thrown the grenade.

He gasped, turning and diving to the floor, knowing it wouldn't be quick enough to save him, but Ginny leapt up next to him, swinging her rifle like a bat - no, like a racket.

And hit the grenade, sending it back towards the enemy position.

The grenade exploded a second later, and Ginny, who had been diving to the floor, but hadn't quite made it in time, yelled as she was thrown to the side.

Then she screamed, holding her leg - her calf was bleeding something fierce. Bullet or grenade fragment, Ron couldn't tell, but there was blood all over her leg.

"Get a potion!" he snapped, but she just kept holding her leg and screaming.

Cursing once more, he crawled towards her. "Keep them suppressed!"

Sirius's machine gun started up again, providing some covering fire when he reached Ginny and started to go through her webbing's pockets and pouches to find a vial. "Stay calm!"

"It bloody hurts!" she yelled back. "And I can't stop the bleeding!"

"Where's the damned potion?"

"Thigh pocket."

Who'd put anything there? But he found the right pocket, and the right potion, handing it to Ginny. "Drink!"

"Put pressure on my leg," she yelled back.

He did so, wincing as her blood covered his hands, but she drank the potion, and he could feel her wound knitting itself closed under his hands. Not completely, though.

Sirius's gun fell silent again - Ron heard the older man yell for more ammunition - and Harry opened up with his rifle. "Get back down," he told Ginny.

"Forget it, I'm fine."

"I can feel the wound," he snapped. "Get it bandaged!"

Before she could reply, loud yelling filled the entire room. Screaming like banshees - or almost. Ron looked at Filch, who was once more firing wildly.

"Here they come!"

More shots rang out, peppering the entire area. Ron saw Filch jerk as several bullets hit him. Ron rolled across the floor - he had to get up and shoot back, but he also needed to get Ginny to safety. If there was any safety to be had.

Another grenade exploded behind him.

"Sirius!" he heard Luna scream. The machine gun fire had stopped, he realised. He gripped his gun. No time. "Crawl back!" he yelled to his sister, then rose, leading with his gun and firing blindly. Something hit his rifle, throwing it to the side and out of his hands before he got his head above the barricades. Then a screaming Russian jumped over the barricade and ploughed into him.

The man's bayonet sliced his left arm open, and Ron was smashed into the ground, the man landing on top of him, still screaming. He tried to pull back, but Ron hit him in the throat with his right hand, then in the face, smashing his nose. As the man reared back, Ron drew the knife from the sheath on his shoulder and started stabbing.

He didn't aim his blows - he just stabbed at the man's throat and head as fast as he could. Until the man's screams changed to a gurgling noise and blood hit Ron's face before the Russian collapsed.

Ron pushed him off, hissing in pain as his left arm felt as if it was on fire, and drew his pistol. Another Russian appeared on top of the barricades, firing wildly, but before he managed to lower his rifle to shoot at Ron, Ron shot him several times, and the man fell back.

Where was Ginny? Ron turned, looking for his sister, and gasped. She was on the ground, fighting a Russian who had gotten behind them with her bare hands. And there was another next to her. Ron shot one-handed, most of his rounds hitting the man's vest, but one hit the man's throat, and he went down, blood gushing from his forehead.

Ginny! Ron got to his knees, aiming - but if he missed, he might hit his sister! He moved forward, trying to keep his head below the shot-up barricades. He had made it halfway to them when the man's head snapped back, and Ginny twisted out of the way - no, despite her position on the ground, she wasn't twisting away - she launched another kick, with her good leg. She hit the man's head again, driving him further back - and up. Ron dropped so he could fire without endangering Ginny and shot the dazed man.

"Ginny!"

But she was crawling away already - towards Harry. Damn! The grenade - both Sirius and Harry were down!

"I need a potion!" Luna yelled, from where she was trying to help Sirius.

Before Ron could help either, something hit him in the back, and he was thrown to the ground.

He had been shot. In the back. Ron managed to roll on the side, but the pain... He screamed, raising his pistol, and more shots hit him, punching into his own vest hard enough to knock the breath out of him. Hard enough to break the plates.

His pistol went flying as he folded over, unable to do anything but yell and hold his stomach. He saw the man shift his position, the muzzle of the rifle swinging towards Ron, and forced himself to move, knowing it would be too late, but he couldn't let...

The man's head jerked back, blood and brain splattering against the wall next to them. Ron glanced over his shoulder and saw Ginny holding Harry's gun, blinking.

And there was Luna, firing at something or someone Ron couldn't see, on the other side of the barricades.

His stomach hurt like hell, but he couldn't see any blood. So the vest had kept the bullets from penetrating. Probably on his back as well - he wasn't dead, yet, anyway. Unlike pretty much the entire security force Filch had had left.

Good enough to fight some more. He dragged himself up into a sitting position and reached for the Kalashnikov a Russian had dropped. Half a magazine left. At least he'd be able to shoot anyone coming over the barricade from here, even if he couldn't stand.

But they weren't coming.

"What are they doing?" he yelled.

"Hiding!" Ginny yelled back.

Damn.

"We need to fall back." He gritted his teeth and crawled towards Luna. "Before they regroup and rush us again."

"What?"

"Fall back and close the doors." That would gain them a little more time. "We need to treat Harry and Sirius." And there were other wounded, weren't there? Damn, moving hurt. And his arm was still bleeding. But he could still move.

He blinked. The stairs were moving too. And… fading.

"Ron!"

"Ron!"

* * *

He woke up with a start. Where was he? Where were his friends? What… Ugh. His stomach and back still hurt. As did his arm.

"Ron!"

Ginny!

He looked around, He was on the stairs leading to Hermione's lab. The others… Oh, Harry was there, sitting on the stairs and looking like he had been thrown through a wood chipper, but he was alive and awake. And Sirius, in a similar state, was even aiming his machine gun upstairs.

"They'll get through the door above us soon," Harry said.

He glanced over his shoulder. Two wounded security men were hefting rifles as well. And there was Dumbledore, wearing a suit, handing out more ammunition.

So this was their final line of defence.

And where they would die. Damn.

"Luna?"

"Miss Lovegood is inside the lab, handling overwatch," Dumbledore informed him with a dry smile. "They took out the cameras, but she still has a drone in the air."

"Thank you," Ron replied. He glanced at his sister, who was kneeling next to Harry.

"Miss Weasley wouldn't move," Dumbledore told him.

Of course she wouldn't. Too stubborn for her own good. Ron scoffed. But there was nothing he could do about it.

"How much longer?" he asked instead.

"A few more minutes - they will be careful when placing the charges."

"They can't have many men left."

"They don't," Dumbledore agreed. "But more than we have. Enough to press the attack one more time."

That meant they had a chance. A small chance, but a chance nevertheless. Ron nodded and checked the rifle they had left next to him. Fully loaded. Good.

He was ready for them now. They'd have to go through him, over his dead body, to reach Hermione and Luna.

And he'd make them pay dearly for it.

He waited.

Minutes passed without an attack. Were the Russians trying something sneaky? He glanced up. Coming through the ceiling, perhaps? Attacking the lab would endanger Hermione, but the stairs would be fair game… But did they know that?

"Where are they?" Sirius muttered.

"They'll come. They've spent too many men getting to this point," Harry replied. "Bloody Russians."

But they didn't come. Minutes passed without an attack.

Then Luna appeared on the door to the lab.

"The helicopters have arrived! They're attacking the Russians from above!"

* * *

_She stared at the circle and bit her lower lip again. Thus far, she had always strived to do her best - to cast every spell perfectly. To do the opposite, to deliberately fail at casting a spell… It went against every fibre of her being._

_But she had to learn how to control a ritual that went wrong. And to do that, she had to train with failing rituals. She took a deep breath and recalled the instructions. If you lost control of a ritual, you needed to divert its magic. Exert some minimum of control to channel it into safe, or at least safer, effects. Preferably spells that were easy to cast. Or had harmless effects._

_Like light. Although too much light would hurt as well._

_She took a deep breath. She was a Gryffindor. It was dangerous, but she could handle it. It was a calculated risk._

_She started the ritual. And after the first minute of chanting, she deliberately stopped. _

_For a moment, she felt light as a feather. Then she felt as if someone had put her in a vice and were squeezing her. She could sense the magic. But to direct it… She flicked her wand even though she knew that wouldn't work._

_And she hissed with pain when it failed._

_A minute later, she had regained her breath. And, after a few more minutes, her nerve._

_This would take time._


	33. Chapter 33: The Recovery

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 33: The Recovery**

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 16th, 2005**

Relief filled Ron, and he had to struggle not to close his eyes and let himself rest. Reinforcements had arrived. They were saved. Saved at the last minute.

"I must say that's indeed quite fortunate," Dumbledore commented with a smile that was, perhaps, a little wider than his usual one.

"Yes! Yes! Thank God!" Ginny, of course, was far less restrained. Ron saw his sister kissing Harry and hugging him hard enough to reopen his wounds. Probably. Not that Harry seemed to mind. And Luna was beaming while Sirius… the man was baring his teeth in an almost feral grin, but he hadn't dropped his machine gun, yet. Meanwhile, the other wounded were cheering or at least making a good attempt at it.

But… "Hermione?" Ron asked.

"She's still… busy," Luna answered, biting her lower lip as she glanced down, towards the entrance to the lab.

Oh. Of course. The ritual wasn't finished yet. She could still… Ron slowly stood and started to descend the flight of stairs leading to the laboratory.

Half a minute later, he stepped into her lab. She was still chanting, and he couldn't tell if she had noticed his entrance. Then he saw her eyes darting towards him, followed by a frown.

He shrugged and sat down on his bench. And ignored her pointed glance at the door. He knew this was dangerous, but he wanted to be there with her. No matter what.

And someone had to guard the door and prevent anyone from disrupting the ritual. Just in case the others outside failed to do so. Well, it was a decent excuse, anyway. He closed his eyes for a moment.

* * *

Ron woke up in the middle of a storm. Wind was pushing against him, strong enough to push him off-balance, hitting him with shredded paper and other small debris. A roaring noise filled his ears - he could barely hear himself call out: "Hermione?"

There she was. In the middle of the circle, standing while the air flowed, rushed, around her, whipping her hair about and tearing at her clothes. It looked as if the only reason that she hadn't been swept away was that the air was hitting her and pulling at her from every direction at once, even though that was absurd.

But it was magic. Even inside the storm, there was this tingling feeling, and small flashes of light were lighting up all over the place but were focused on Hermione. Not light, lightning.

Hell, lightning was running up and down her body!

Ron stood and almost fell, stumbling several feet to the side as the wind raged against him. But he clenched his teeth and pushed back, focusing on Hermione. He had to reach her. No matter what. Step by step, he pushed forward, forcing himself through the storm. Paper hit him in the face, leaving cuts. A pencil hit his broken vest hard enough to remain stuck, like a dart. But he kept going. The storm grew more powerful, as if it was focusing on him, wanting to drive him back. Perhaps it did.

He didn't care. All he cared about was her. Reaching her. Step by step, he marched on. Fought his way onwards. A few more yards. The gale pushed him back, one, two steps, until he found his balance. He gritted his teeth and continued, one hand shielding his eyes and face from debris. He didn't need to see, anyway - he knew the way.

One more step took him into the circle, but he couldn't tell the difference. He didn't even notice until he caught a glimpse of smeared runes - the candles and bowls had been blown away, smashed some time ago. Another step. One more. All the magic in the world wouldn't stop him. He wouldn't let it.

Another step, another stumble. A shard from a broken bowl bounced off his vest and sliced his cheek. He didn't care. There she was. Still standing. Battered - he could see the cuts and bruises on her face. She managed to turn her head, open her eyes a little and look at him right before he embraced her.

And held her while the storm beat and raged at them.

He didn't know how much time had passed before the storm finally started to weaken, the roaring noise fading until he could hear her voice.

"Ron, you fool!"

He was still laughing, still holding her, when Harry and the others entered the lab.

* * *

"You could've been killed!" Five minutes later, their cuts and bruises having been treated with a few bandages and a little magical ointment, she was glaring at him.

"So could you," he replied, smiling. He didn't mind Hermione being angry at him. They were alive. As were their friends.

"Yes, but that was inevitable. You put yourself at risk. Deliberately. And for what? To die with me, if things went wrong?"

"To save you, if you got hurt," he replied. It wasn't a lie. Not really.

"And what if you got hurt?"

He shrugged. "If things went really wrong, would I have been safe outside the laboratory?"

She pressed her lips together instead of answering. Which answered his question anyway. "The risk inside was higher. Significantly higher."

"For both of us," he pointed out.

"I hate to interrupt, but we've got more important problems than deciding who between the two of you is the more stubborn fool," Harry interrupted them.

Ron looked at his friend. "What?"

Harry grimaced, and Luna spoke up before he could say anything. "The government's jackboots arrived with the reinforcements."

"MI5 is here," Harry said. "And they don't seem happy with Dumbledore."

"Oh." That would complicate things. A lot. He glanced at the door.

"Dumbledore's stalling them, but that won't last," Sirius told them.

Hermione gasped. "My data!" She whirled and ran towards her desk, which had toppled over during the ritual's end.

"Didn't you back it up?" Luna asked.

"I did. The hard drives are safe in my bag. But I want to wipe the computers here," Hermione replied. "I don't think the storm was strong enough to destroy their physical storage."

"Storm?" Ginny - and Harry - asked.

Ron ignored them and joined Hermione at her desk, picking up a keyboard on the way - then another that wasn't broken.

"Just take the hard drives out," Luna told them.

"I'm planning to," Hermione replied. "But I need to be sure that there is nothing buffered, either."

"Blow the whole thing up?" Sirius replied.

Ron didn't realise until he was stuffing more hard disks into Hermione's bag that he was tampering with a crime scene and concealing evidence. He snorted - he didn't care. This was the right thing to do. And MI5 weren't the police, anyway.

* * *

"Where are the drives?" Mr Atkinson, the apparent leader of the MI5 team, asked with narrowed eyes. Ron was impressed - slightly. The middle-aged man had barely taken a glance at the ripped open computer cases on the floor after entering the laboratory before he addressed them. He hadn't even waited for the rest of his men to go over the computers.

"When it seemed as if the attackers were about to overwhelm us, Dr Granger chose to deny them her research data," Dumbledore, who had come with Atkinson, replied. "A drastic but, under the circumstances, entirely appropriate decision, wouldn't you agree, Nigel?"

Apparently, the man wasn't as fond of Dumbledore as Dumbledore presumed to be of him since he scowled at the old man. "And where are the backups?"

"Safe," Luna said with a smile.

Atkinson glared at her, then turned to Dumbledore. "You're working with the likes of _her_ these days?"

Dumbledore's smile never wavered. "I've found Miss Lovegood to be a very smart and courageous young woman. If all my operatives had been of a similar calibre, I dare say that a few of my operations would have turned out differently."

Atkinson scoffed. "Things have changed since you retired."

"Things are always changing. Yet, in many ways, they stay the same," Dumbledore told him, slowly inclining his head. Ron was sure that the old spymaster would have folded his hands, had he been seated.

"I think you are as aware as I am that an invasion of Britain by Russian troops is unprecedented," Atkinson shot back.

"An invasion? Hardly. A few dozen men, at most," Dumbledore retorted. "Unless Her Majesty's forces have been cut back far more than was publicly announced, that cannot be called an invasion."

"And another dozen at that fake site you had us guard. Upstairs is not amused. And neither is the Prime Minister, I'd wager. No one likes it when you try to play your old games."

"Games?" Dumbledore sounded honestly shocked. "I informed you of an imminent attack by unknown forces on one of the Phoenix Gruppe's research sites and cooperated fully with the authorities."

"And neglected to inform us that the research site was a decoy." Atkinson shook his head. "That's not cricket, old bean," he added with heavy sarcasm.

"If I had expected an attack on this site, I certainly wouldn't have been present myself, would I?" Dumbledore shot back. "I know that I have a bit of a reputation in certain circles, but I'm not omniscient."

"Enough. What are you researching here that someone would go to such lengths in attempting to acquire it? And don't try to tell me that this was aimed at you. Dr Granger's been a person of interest for months now."

Uh oh. Ron glanced at Hermione, though she seemed utterly focused on the man.

"Although I do not doubt that the… scale of this attack is at least partially a consequence of your unauthorised little adventure on Russian soil a few weeks ago," Atkinson went on.

Dumbledore cocked his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said with such an earnest tone and expression that Ron would have believed him - if he hadn't been on said mission. And if he didn't know Dumbledore.

But Atkinson obviously knew the old man as well. "Enough with the lies!" he snapped. "It's not the Cold War any more - not that you don't seem to have tried your best to revive that conflict."

"I can assure you that the only thing I've done was stop the attacks on Dr Granger - something that certainly is in the country's interest," Dumbledore replied, seemingly unflappable.

"You're no longer the head of MI6. You're a private citizen. And no matter how wealthy you are, you neither set nor enact the foreign policy of Her Majesty's Government!"

"Why not? Mr Dumbledore's money certainly would be sufficient," Luna asked. "Or do you mean that he didn't bribe the government, as would have been proper procedure?"

"What?" Atkinson turned towards her. "Are you insinuating that Her Majesty's Government is corrupt?"

"Of course not!" She shook her head. "That would be silly - why would I insinuate such a well-established fact?"

Ron managed to avoid laughing out loud at Atkinson's expression. Sirius didn't.

Atkinson clenched his teeth and glared at all of them. "Do you think this is some sort of joke?"

"No," Dumbledore spoke up again. "We're all aware of the gravity of the situation. Miss Lovegood was completely serious. We managed to identify the man behind the attacks on Dr Granger a while ago, and I have no doubt that he is behind this latest attack as well. Just as I'm quite certain that President Putin will confirm that."

"You've found a scapegoat, you mean."

The old man spread his hands. "A private Russian citizen with ties to organised crime, sending out mercenaries and criminals to do his bidding. Probably with ties to terrorists as well."

Atkinson snorted. "Are you offering to serve in a similar role?"

"I think that Her Majesty's Government will find that on our side, this truly is a case of self-defence," Dumbledore replied.

"You were defending yourself all the way to Russia?"

"Private investigators came under attack by locals and were forced to defend themselves." Dumbledore smiled at the other man.

"That won't work. Not this time," Atkinson said. "You aren't the head of MI6 any more. You're expendable."

"You'll find that a number of influential people disagree with your assessment," Dumbledore retorted, still smiling as if they were discussing sports - or dessert, in his case. Instead of his possible incarceration on, well, not entirely false charges. Which, Ron reminded himself, included himself and all his friends.

"You think you know enough of the current government's dirty laundry to escape any consequences." Atkinson's expression made it a statement, not a question. He glanced at Hermione. "Or you think her research will convince the government to overlook your actions."

"That would be a welcome change from struggling for funding," Hermione said with a sneer of her own.

This time Ron chuckled as well.

"And what exactly are you researching?" Atkinson made a point of looking around the ruined room. "No one cares enough about theoretical quantum physics to violate the territorial integrity of the United Kingdom. What are you building here?"

Instead of telling him off, Hermione glanced at Dumbledore.

Atkinson noticed that as well and narrowed his eyes. "I can have all of you arrested."

He was correct, of course - there was more than enough evidence to take in everyone alive on the grounds. And if they dug around a little...

"A way to expand space," Dumbledore said. "Or fold it, from a different point of view."

"What?"

Oh. The test ritual Hermione had done - which had extended the laboratory's dimensions for a moment.

"A way to stretch the space inside a container beyond its outward dimensions," Hermione said. "Expanding the interior volume without expanding the container's dimensions, or mass, to be precise."

"Do you expect me to believe that?" Atkinson sneered.

"Do you expect me to make such an extraordinary claim if I couldn't prove it?" Dumbledore shot back. With a glance at the destruction around them, he added: "Well, once the laboratory has been restored, that is. Which will take a while, I fear."

"Are you serious?"

"Dozens of people have died over this," Dumbledore told him. "Many of them were people I knew. Yes, I'm serious."

Ron clenched his teeth. Dozens dead - and he had been happy that his friends had lived.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 18th, 2005**

Ron looked around, shaking his head. Two days after the assault, Hermione's laboratory had been mostly restored. Well, to the point that it was functional. The walls and the floor still sported the scars from the failed ritual - scratches and gouges. And some of the furniture had been replaced by far cruder versions - the desk was just a wooden plank placed across two pedestals. But the computers were new, as were the power cables. And the generators in the laboratory had been dinged, but still worked fine - they had tested them. The generators in the garage were a total loss, of course. As was the garage.

But compared to the rest of the building, the laboratory looked fine. The only thing missing was the ritual circle. And, he thought with a glance at the two soldiers standing guard at the entrance, where he used to sit, there's a good reason for that.

Performing a magic ritual would be a little too much for the forces of Her Majesty's Government who had stepped in to 'protect' the research site.

"Can you hand me the printouts?"

He jerked at Hermione's question, then nodded. "Sure." He bent down and grabbed the stack of paper from the printer. "It's not a real scientist's desk until it's covered by paper, hm?"

She pouted at his grin, but she was amused. A little, at least - he could tell. "They are less dangerous when thrown around by a failed experiment than computers," she said, a little too loudly.

The guards at the door didn't even flinch, though. They didn't wear unit patches, so it was hard to tell, but Ron didn't think they were SAS. Yet he was sure that they weren't regular soldiers, either.

For all of Dumbledore's vaunted influence and promises, MI5 had taken control of the site and didn't seem to be planning to relinquish it any time soon. Well, they were supposed to do something about that with their current project.

Provided it worked, of course. And that would require some sleight of hand.

He chuckled, startling Hermione. When she frowned at him, he shook his head. "Just a stray thought."

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes?"

"Well…" he lowered his voice and leaned closer, hoping that the soldiers would think he was merely flirting. "If this works, you'll be a veritable stage magician!"

She gaped at him. "Oh, you!" Then she started to laugh as well.

Good.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 18th, 2005**

"Can you pass me that one? No, the other one, the curry, yes!" Luna beamed at Ron as he handed her the MRE she had pointed out. "Yummy!"

"You're about the only one who might actually like these," Harry commented, already waiting for his own to finish heating up.

"They're not as bad as soldiers make them out to be," Sirius pointed out. "Soldiers always complain about the food. You could serve them a five-course menu cooked by the best chef in England, and they'd still complain."

"Why aren't you complaining, then?" Luna asked. "You're a soldier, too."

"What? Perish the thought! I'm an officer!" Sirius protested before he laughed out loud.

A little too loudly, in Ron's opinion. Just as Ginny was too quiet. He glanced at her while she was distracted by opening her own ration. The attack hadn't been her first fight, but it was the first time she had killed someone. And it had been up close and personal, not from a distance. She wouldn't get over that experience easily or quickly. And he wouldn't be able to help much, if at all, just like before.

"Ron?"

Hermione was looking at him like he had probably been looking at Ginny. "It's nothing," he lied. "Just thinking of everything that's changed."

"Ah." She glanced at Ginny as well. Of course she would be aware of it - she had talked to Ginny and Luna about it before, after all.

He looked at Luna, who acted like nothing had changed. Emphasis on 'acted' - he could tell. He didn't know if she had killed anyone, or, if she had, whether she had realised it or not, but she hadn't come through the whole ordeal unscathed, either.

And he couldn't help her. Just as he hadn't been able to protect them from this.

Damn.

"Your ration's done," he heard Hermione tell him.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." He smiled at her, and she patted his thigh before they both focused on eating.

"It's like a camping trip, only indoors," Luna broke the sudden silence. "All we need are tents and a campfire." She looked around.

"Please don't light a fire in my lab," Hermione said, though with a smile. "I still need to clean the floor."

So she could replace the ritual circle. Once they had regained control of the site, of course.

"Aw." Luna pouted, but not for long. "What about tents? Without putting holes into the floor," she quickly added.

Ron nodded. A little privacy would be nice - they had spent two nights in Hermione's lab already, in sleeping bags. Restoring their quarters so they were inhabitable again would take longer than fixing the lab.

The Russians' attack had been quite thorough.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 20th, 2005**

"Take a seat, and please excuse the state of the room - we're still repairing the damage caused by the recent assault." Dumbledore beamed at the group of men and women entering the laboratory and waved at the two benches lining the wall near the door. "It won't take long since this is just a demonstration."

"A safe demonstration, I hope," one of the older men among the group said, with a glance at Hermione, Ron noticed.

She sneered at the man in return. "Of course they'd send Waters-Smythe. Damned sexist fossil," she muttered.

"Fellow academic?" Ron asked.

"Only in the broadest sense," she replied. "Ever since I got a grant for which he'd applied, our relationship would be best described as one of mutual loathing. He spent months telling everyone in the faculty that I'd only received it because of my 'tragic past'. Bloody pillock."

"Ah. Don't turn him into a newt, please," he joked.

She laughed in return. "I won't. Seeing his reaction to my demonstration will be much more satisfying."

He wanted to ask if she could actually use a ritual to turn - transfigure - the man into a newt, but decided against it and took a few steps back.

It wouldn't do to hold up the demonstration. Dumbledore was smiling at them - well, at Hermione - but Grindelwald still seemed to blame them for Dumbledore almost getting killed by Russians.

Russian criminals, according to Putin's press conference. All _former _soldiers with ties to the Russian mob. Technically correct, of course - though everyone knew that they had been following orders from the Russian government. 'Probably related to similar criminal attacks on Russian soil, a veritable gang war'. 'Fortunately' the Russian criminal instigating this had been found. 'Unfortunately', he had died in a firefight with the brave Russian police and so they hadn't been able to arrest the man. And none of the prisoners had talked, at least as far as Ron knew. Putin had picked them well. It remained to be seen whether or not the government would accept the lie, but Ron wasn't expecting anything other than a few sanctions being levied on some of Putin's pals, anyway. If they could use Veritaserum… but drugging prisoners wouldn't do them any good, even if they were willing to have the government open that can of worms.

At least Kirikov was dead, provided the DNA checked out. Ron wouldn't put it past Putin to kill a body double of his old comrade to present to the British authorities. The man certainly had been prepared for the failure of the attack.

Hermione stepped forward, interrupting his thoughts. "Good afternoon!" she announced. "Welcome to this small demonstration of my space folding prototype. It's just a prototype, requiring a lot of power to produce a quite limited effect, but I'm certain that once you see the results, you will realise its potential."

And let her continue her research in private. Or so Dumbledore's plan went.

Provided they could fool their visitors with this.

Waters-Smythe sneered. "If I had a quid for every time I'd heard the claim that something had 'great potential'…"

Ron saw Hermione stiffen before she flashed the old man a thin smile. "I'll let my work speak for itself. Now watch - and don't move from the benches, please; the area near the prototype isn't safe."

"But we're safe here?" the old man asked. Ron noted that he actually seemed to be concerned.

"Perfectly safe." Hermione smiled again, showing her teeth, then turned towards her computer.

Ron joined the others at the benches, to keep up appearances. Soon, a humming noise could be heard coming from the generators, slowly increasing in volume.

One of the men in the group, a Mr Roberts, apparently a former MI5 field agent, leaned forward and looked at him. "Are you her bodyguard?"

His tone added another meaning to his question, but Ron nodded. "Yes." His smile was a little toothy, though - he couldn't help it. So what if he and Hermione were together?

"Isn't that against regulations?" Mrs Baker, an MP with 'some influence in the government', as Dumbledore had described her, asked with raised eyebrows.

"That won't be a problem," he told her.

"Oh?"

"Yes." He leaned back. "It's starting," he told the group.

All of them, even Waters-Smythe, though the old man tried to hide his interest, began to pay attention to the demonstration.

It was quite a sight. The quantum mirror cage was lit up by sparks, lots of lights flashed around the box placed in the centre, and the generators were running at full power - Ron could feel the vibrations even this far away. Though the whining noise from the box soon drowned out the rest.

Before it became too loud to bear, though, the sparks vanished, and Hermione stood and announced. "The box is now charged, and the space inside it has been folded - extended, in this case." She grabbed a ten-foot-pole from her desk and approached the box. "That means the box has a far greater volume than its dimensions would lead you to expect." With these words, she opened the box and pushed the pole inside. The entire pole slid into the box.

"A parlour trick," Waters-Smythe sneered. "Next you'll demand we fund Copperfield!"

"Feel free to try it out yourself," Hermione retorted. "This is not a trick but actual folded space. Anything that will fit through the opening here will fit inside the box."

Waters-Smythe sneered and all but jumped up, his earlier apprehension about the experiment apparently having been replaced by an eagerness to prove Hermione a fraud. He quickly walked over to the quantum mirror cage and started to run his hands over the box.

"As you can see, there are no mirrors," Hermione explained as the rest of the group followed the old man's example. Various items were placed inside - some smaller than the box, some far too large. All vanished into the box.

"Remarkable," Baker said. "But how much energy does this effect require?"

The number she gave made Baker frown. "That's the power demand at this point. But I expect to improve on that," Hermione added, followed by a short lecture on quantum mechanics that Ron couldn't quite follow.

"However, even as it works now, this would be quite the boon for naval vessels. Imagine a submarine with such folded space for their magazines," Dumbledore pointed out. "Or the cargo capacity of a small, fast ship."

"As I said," Hermione added with a wide, triumphant smile aimed at Waters-Smythe, "I'm sure you appreciate the potential."

The old man looked like he'd rather bite his tongue off than agree, but the rest of the group nodded.

It looked like this part of Dumbledore's plan had worked. Now it was up to the old spymaster to complete the second part.

Ron would help Hermione retrieve her beaded bag of holding from the box and restock it with all the supplies currently stashed in their new quarters.

After their visitors had left, of course.

* * *

Ron looked up from his magazine as Hermione entered their mostly restored room. "Hey," he greeted her - rather lamely, but he wasn't about to ask how her talk with Ginny and Luna had gone. Even though he wanted to know how they were doing. But it was late already, and they hadn't had much time for themselves.

"Hey." She returned his greeting with a smile and a sigh as she sat down on their bed. Then she blinked. "Popular Mechanics?"

He shrugged. "Luna managed to acquire a stack of recent magazines. Don't ask me how."

"She and Ginny got them from the delegation," Hermione told him.

"Ah." That left a lot of details open to interpretation. Ron didn't think Ginny or Luna would stoop to outright theft - well, he wouldn't dismiss the possibility either - but perhaps they had simply asked for the magazines, playing for sympathy. The two had certainly been able to do that very well as kids.

She sighed again and stretched out next to him. After a little wriggling, she patted the mattress. "It's a little lumpy."

"It's better than the cots," he pointed out.

"Marginally," she insisted.

"An improvement is an improvement." And they had a lot more privacy here in the room. "Do you think Dumbledore will manage to keep your experiments going without interference?"

"I made it quite clear that I wouldn't accept getting moved - or 'reassigned' - against my will," she said with a scoff. "Some of them didn't like that."

So that had been the purpose of her meeting after dinner. "Waters-Smythe?"

"Among others. He wasn't the only 'Old Boy' in the group."

He shrugged. "Technically, so is Dumbledore."

"I'm well aware of that," she retorted with a frown.

"Sorry."

She sighed again. "I just get a little annoyed when people think they can just order me around. Dumbledore is at least always polite and subtle about getting his way."

Too subtle and too polite for Ron's taste. But she probably still saw her Dumbledore in the old spymaster. "So, all we can do now is wait?"

"And rebuild," she replied. "The further along things are here, the less likely anyone wanting to move me is to succeed."

He nodded. That was an old ploy. Not an infallible one, though - sometimes, the sunk costs were ignored by whoever was in charge. "More work, then," he said with an exaggerated sigh of his own.

"It's mostly work for Dumbledore's people," she replied. "Unless you want to engage in home repair."

"No, thanks." Just checking the repairs for hidden surveillance devices, or worse things, was work enough.

"There's one bit of good news, though." She was smiling widely, he noted.

"Oh?"

"The rushed attempt during the assault greatly accelerated the experiment's progress," she explained. "I managed to refine the formula in several key places."

Now that _was _good news. He smiled at her, then rolled over on to his side and put an arm around her, pulling her close. She laughed, then pushed him back down before moving on top of him.

For a moment, they looked at each other, smiling. Then he kissed her.

And tried to push his fears about the consequences for their relationship of an open portal to her home dimension out of his mind.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, November 25th, 2005**

"They're letting the Russians get away with it?" Ginny exclaimed, throwing the newspaper she had been reading down on the table, almost smashing her lunch. "Despite all the evidence? The prisoners? All the people they killed?"

"They've expelled a few suspected agents among the Russian embassy staff," Sirius corrected her. "And they've sent Putin a strongly worded complaint while asking our stalwart allies for sanctions." He grinned without humour. "In other words, they've asked the Yanks and the EU to leave us hanging out to dry while they desperately search for excuses to claim that there's reasonable doubt about the Russians' responsibility."

"What?" Ginny stared at him.

"No one wants to make the Russians too mad," the older man explained with a shrug. "They're not some weak third-world country you can push around. And our government probably doesn't want anyone to look closely at our own missions."

"Which is a good thing," Luna said. "Or they might try using us as scapegoats just like Putin used Kirikov."

Ron couldn't claim she was wrong. And their missions actually had been unauthorised ones, so the government would, in fact, be correct in their case.

Not that the law would matter, anyway. After Hermione's demonstration of her 'discovery', the British government would never consider sacrificing her.

Exactly as Dumbledore had planned, of course. Although Ron was almost happy that the old man hadn't managed to get rid of all government interference - the site was now guarded by the British Army and the Royal Air Force. They had even declared the airspace above the lake off-limits.

But as welcome as their protection was, Ron was also aware that the soldiers were here to guard them in both senses of the word. It wouldn't do for Hermione to suddenly end up in a secret lab of the Phoenix Gruppe in Germany or France, after all.

Well, there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was help Hermione as well as he could. And hope Dumbledore managed to restore or replace the generators damaged in the fighting as soon as possible.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 21st, 2005**

"You are worrying too much, Gellert. Dr Granger isn't in the habit of making promises she cannot keep."

"And you're not worrying enough. This is a dangerous experiment, even if it should - finally - succeed. In fact, success will result in greater danger than failure. And that's not taking the possibility of yet another attack into account. You are a tempting target, Albus."

"As are you. If you truly think that we're in danger, why are you attending this event? An attack would have a decent chance of decapitating the Phoenix Gruppe in a single stroke."

"Hah! Someone has to keep a cool head in this endeavour. Might as well be me."

"Indeed."

Ron rolled his eyes. He didn't know how much of that exchange was staged and how much was genuine, but he wished they would be quiet. He didn't need another distraction, not when, after a month of rebuilding the laboratory and refining the ritual, Hermione was about to open the portal to her home dimension. On the day of the Winter Solstice - but she claimed that that was merely a coincidence.

That Grindelwald was correct about the danger didn't help, either. In less than an hour, they might enter a world controlled by a genocidal regime of dark wizards. And they would appear right next to their main, or only, school - a key fortress, as Hermione had explained.

Damn. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the two old men behind him and Hermione's chanting in front. They were ready for this. They had prepared for the worst case. As well as they could, at least.

Gritting his teeth, he looked at the others. They weren't wearing fatigues, but civilian clothes - fatigues would be too conspicuous if they encountered anyone, wizard or muggle. But they were wearing bulletproof vests under their sweaters. And carrying pistols and submachine guns under their jackets. And Hermione's beaded bag of holding was stuffed with enough supplies to both arm a small army and fight for years. Well, almost.

Yes, they were as ready as they could be. Physically, at least.

Ron wasn't sure whether he could face his counterpart. And Hermione's reaction. If the other Ron was dead… He shook his head. That was an evil, selfish thought. He was better than that. He had to be better than that.

Hermione started to enter the last phase of the ritual. About ten more minutes - Ron could probably do the chanting himself now, just from hearing it dozens of times. He glanced at his friends again.

Luna was smiling widely, tapping her feet and leaning forward as much as she could without losing her balance. Which had happened before, and was why they weren't too close to the ritual circle. Ginny was, no surprise there, hugging Harry. And Sirius was pretending to be reading a newspaper, and doing a bad job of it - he hadn't turned a page in fifteen minutes.

Perhaps bantering was Dumbledore and Grindelwald's way of coping with the waiting? That would make them more human than Ron would have expected. On the other hand, that might be exactly why they would stage such an exchange.

He snorted, wondering privately if he'd ever figure either of the old men out. Probably not.

"Ah, it's starting," he heard Dumbledore whisper behind him. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"

"Someone has to stay behind and ensure that you can return," Grindelwald replied, whispering as well.

The man was correct, of course, but the fact that he would be left in control of the site was a little worrying in itself.

Then Hermione whipped her arms down, finishing the ritual. After a moment that felt much longer, the restored generators started humming loudly enough for Ron to feel the vibrations.

Then the quantum mirror cage lit up, brighter than Ron had ever seen it.

And an opening began to form in its centre.

* * *

_There was the Horcrux - as expected, Voldemort had used Ravenclaw's diadem. Another priceless relic of Wizarding Britain, ruined by one man's greed. _

_She eyed it, wishing there was a way to destroy the Horcrux without destroying the diadem. Who knew what kind of magic she might be able to do with the diadem? It was supposed to lend you superhuman insight. If she wore it, might it be possible for her to find a way to save it quickly enough to withstand the Horcrux's influence? It was certainly worth a try…_

_She suddenly realised that her hands were inches from the diadem and recoiled as if she had been struck._

_That had been close! The Horcrux's influence was more subtle than she had expected. But she'd beaten it. And now she would destroy it. But she needed to get it out of the Room for that._

_Wetting her lips, she pulled a small bag out of her beaded bag - there was no way she'd touch a Horcrux. A quick Levitation Charm on the diadem's mount had it floating into the bag._

_She released the breath she had been holding as she tied the bag closed, shuddering at the thought of what she was carrying. Now she just had to…_

"_Reducto!"_

_The curse hit her Shield Charm before she could react, shattering it and throwing her into a stack of books. Death Eaters? How had they gotten past her friends?_

"_That's for Draco! Reducto! Reducto!"_

_More explosions shook the ground, but she was already crawling behind an old armoire and recasting her Shield Charm. She knew that voice! Crabbe! What was he doing here? And how had that oaf managed to beat Harry and Ron?_

"_Die, mudblood! Reducto! Reducto!"_

_No. He wouldn't have beaten her friends. He must have sneaked past them somehow. Perhaps a secret passage - who knew what the Room of Requirement could actually do?_

_Another explosion shook the room, but further behind her. She grinned, briefly - he didn't know where she was. Now she could turn the tables…_

"_Bombarda!"_

_A huge explosion threw her into the air, breaking her shield once more, and she screamed as she hit a row of shelves. Pain erupted in her arm - her wand arm - and she crashed on to the ground, rolling a few yards over dirt and debris._

_No. Her arm. Her wand! Where was her wand? She looked around frantically, but the explosion had thrown up a lot of dust as well as creating smoke._

"_Did you get her, Greg?"_

"_I think so, Vince."_

_Damn, both of them were here. And she had lost her wand. If they caught her… if they got their hands on the Horcrux… She clenched her teeth and dragged herself behind a broken table._

"_Hey! Mudblood! If you come out, we'll make it quick!" Crabbe yelled._

"_Don't make us hunt you down!" Goyle added._

_She ignored them. She just had to hide until Harry and Ron returned. If only she hadn't given their last spare wands away… "Accio wand!" she whispered, but failed to summon her wand._

"_Sod this! I'm not going to get ambushed in this maze!"_

"_Vince! No! You fool!"_

_What? Hermione froze. What had Crabbe done?_

_A horrible, familiar noise and a wave of heat answered her question. She gasped again - no, he wouldn't have… _

_But the greenish light that started to fill the room confirmed it. The fool had cast Fiendfyre!_

"_We need to get out! Vince!"_

"_I've got it! I've got iAAHHHHH..."_

"_Vince! NoAHHHH…"_

_At least they'd paid for their folly. But Hermione would be next - she had no wand and no way out. She was trapped here. She'd burn to death._

_No. There had to be a way out. "Harry! Ron!" she screamed as she hurried away from the approaching fire. "Help!"_

_They couldn't hear her. And even if they could, they couldn't reach her. Apparition didn't work inside Hogwarts. If she had a broom… but she didn't._

_She sobbed as she reached the wall. This was it. She would die here. With the Horcrux. She'd do what she had to._

_But she didn't want to die. Not like this._

_She looked around. Debris everywhere. And the Fiendfyre was approaching. Wait… she knew that cabinet. The twins had used it to trap a Slytherin bigot, once. It was a Vanishing Cabinet. Broken - but, as the twins had found out, sometimes it worked. No one knew where the other half was, exactly, but anything was better than burning to death._

_She rushed over to it, screaming when she banged her arm on a broken chair, and opened it. "Work! Work! Work!" she mumbled, closing the door behind her._

_It didn't._

_She climbed out and tried again._

_It didn't work. And the fire was closing._

_Another attempt. No luck._

_She could feel the heat now and coughed in the smoke. One last chance. Snarling, she threw the bag with the Horcrux into the fire and jumped into the cabinet…_

_Twisting. _

_Pulling. _

_Shrieking. _

_A glimpse of a living room._

_A flash of light._

_Falling._

… _and then she hit the ground, hard, hissing as she cradled her broken arm._

_Then she blinked. She was in the middle of a field. And the house she could see in the distance certainly wasn't Hogwarts._


	34. Chapter 34: The Return

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 34: The Return**

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 21st, 2005**

There, in front of Ron, was the portal. Glowing at the edges, and wide enough for two people to walk through comfortably. But it wasn't transparent - all he could see was a shimmering field.

"That's it," he heard Hermione say.

He looked at her. She was beaming. Tired, but oh so happy. She had done it. She had opened a way back to her home. Back to her family and friends. Back to her Ron.

"How do you know?" Grindelwald asked.

"I've worked on this for years," she replied, narrowing her eyes a little.

"But you haven't tested it," the old German shot back with more than a hint of a sneer.

"That's what we're about to do." She huffed and walked over to the portal. "That's how you conduct an experiment."

"As long as you don't test it yourself."

That earned Grindelwald a glare, but Ron couldn't help agreeing - privately, very privately, of course. Hermione might indeed have planned to test it herself.

"That's what Mr Drone is for!" Luna said, holding up her toy helicopter.

"We should be outside Hogwarts's wards, so the helicopter should function," Hermione added. "The portal will appear on open ground - I've adapted the ritual for that - but as close to this location as possible."

"And if Mr Drone doesn't work, we can reel him in and check what went wrong." Luna waved a thin cable around.

"Unless it has attracted the attention of genocidal wizards about to invade our world." Obviously, Grindelwald was determined to be the pessimist.

"The portal only stays open as long as the generators keep it powered," Hermione retorted. "As I have explained multiple times. A single push of the button will close it - and I'm the only one able to open it."

Of course, Sirius had a heavy machine gun trained on the portal, just in case. According to Hermione, not even a magical shield would stand up to a burst of .50 cal BMG bullets. And there were a few more precautions Ron didn't want to think about - like shaped charges in the ceiling, floor and walls.

"Which is why you should stay here."

"I'm also the only one able to enter a magical area and the only one who knows the other world," Hermione told him. "And if you have to close the portal, I can make another, now that I know the process."

What she wasn't telling them was that she needed to get a wand, Ron knew. That was the real reason she wanted to go through the portal. And if she were cut off - well, she would be in her own world.

Which was the reason Ron wanted to go with her. Just in case.

"We went over this before," she added with a scowl. "I'm not about to change the plan we agreed upon at the last minute."

"Of course not," Dumbledore added. "However, I think we should let Miss Lovegood send in her scout before we get bogged down discussing hypotheticals."

"Yes!" Luna exclaimed. Without waiting for Hermione and Grindelwald's reluctant agreement, she put the helicopter down in front of the portal and switched it on.

A moment later, the portal appeared on a large TV screen Dumbledore had had installed in the lab - the camera in the helicopter was working as it should.

"Lift-off!" Luna announced cheerfully as the helicopter's engine started and it hovered in front of the portal, trailing a cable. "Permission to enter the portal?"

"Granted," Hermione told her with fake gravitas.

"Get on with it," Ron heard Grindelwald grumble.

Luna frowned, and the helicopter turned away from the portal. "This is a historic moment!" she announced. "The first time we're travelling from this world to another. That's not something you rush!"

"It's also not something you delay longer than necessary," Grindelwald retorted. "We don't want to run into those 'Death Eaters', do we?"

Luna huffed but turned back. "Entering a new world… now!" she said as the helicopter flew into the portal.

The moment the helicopter entered the portal, the TV screen flashed like a stroboscope, and Ron had to fight a sudden bout of nausea. Judging by the reactions of the others, he wasn't the only one.

But then the screen cleared up, and a forest appeared. A forest that looked like the woods around the Black Lake they had run through so often.

"Mr Drone's working," Luna said, unnecessarily. She moved the helicopter around and flew in a circle until they could see the dimly glowing portal with the cable sticking out of it.

They were surrounded by trees. Ron relaxed a little - if the portal had appeared in an open field, it would have been visible from afar.

"Can I take a peek from the canopy?" Luna asked.

"Yes," Hermione told her.

Luna all but squeed and piloted the helicopter upwards after briefly lifting its nose so she could check if the way was clear.

Ron waited, holding his breath as the tree trunk on the screen was replaced by branches, then by the open sky. Then Luna started to turn the drone round, and ruins appeared on the hill in the distance. No.

"Yes," he heard Hermione whisper. "Hogwarts."

"Ruins?" Grindelwald asked.

"Ruins?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes," Ron confirmed. "Bigger ruins than the ones here, but…"

"Oh, that's the charms at work. Muggles see ruins. I knew it worked through cameras, but I wasn't certain whether it would work through dimensional portals." Hermione sniffled. "But I can see Hogwarts. As I remember it," she added, wiping her eyes.

Oh. Of course - a magic castle, and he couldn't see it. Being from another world didn't make him magical enough to count. Ron forced the stupid thought away. They had to focus on the mission. "That doesn't mean the same people are in charge of it," he pointed out.

"Right. Of course." She nodded and took a deep breath.

He felt guilty about ruining this moment for her, but the school could be run by Death Eaters and would still look the same, from what he knew. And they had to be ready for that, and not blinded by… wishes, nostalgia or whatever.

"Alright," she continued in a more steady voice, "That is Hogwarts, and the spells' effects confirm that it is a magical school."

"Your home dimension, then," Ginny said.

"Yes. We can assume that based on the evidence so far." Hermione nodded again. "So, our next step is, as planned, to go through the portal and secure more magical supplies from the caches I hid during the war."

"Preferably from the closest," Grindelwald said.

"Yes, as planned," Hermione retorted with another glare.

"Indeed," Dumbledore tried to play peacemaker. "So I think we should go on without further delay."

The old man looked almost as excited as Luna about entering a new world. And wasn't that a scary thought?

Of course, Ron had dreamed about such a moment for years as a kid. Dreamed of entering a magical realm with elves and sorcery. But it was a dangerous world, and he was far less prepared for facing wizards and witches than he'd like.

"Remember: Do not say the name 'Voldemort'," Hermione cautioned them. "In the war, saying the name led the Snatchers right to you. We taught them the folly of that, but…" She pressed her lips together.

"But if he won the war, then he could've kept up the practice," Harry finished for her.

"So let's go!" Luna exclaimed.

"Once you've brought back the drone to prove that the portal truly is two-way," Grindelwald cut in.

"Of course," Luna replied. Apparently, she wasn't fazed by the German's constant disparaging remarks.

On the screen, Ron could see trees pass by as the helicopter descended quickly and he was secretly glad he wasn't on board - that would have been a worse plunge than on a roller-coaster.

Then the portal filled the screen, and, a moment later, the helicopter entered. Ron turned away before he could feel nauseous this time, watching the portal itself, and the helicopter leaving it.

"There's a delay of about a second," Hermione commented. "It's not an instantaneous trip."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Ginny asked.

"Neither; just an observation," Hermione replied.

"Alright, it works," Luna announced. "Who's first through the portal?"

"Let me check the drone first," Hermione said with a glance at Grindelwald. "Place it on the table here, in the middle of the instruments."

A check with the laser sensors didn't reveal any warping, as she told them a few minutes later.

"So, who's going to be first?" Luna asked again. "Or, second, in this case, after Mr Drone."

"Now comes the animal testing," Hermione said.

"Oh." Luna frowned. "Do we have to do that?"

"It's just a mouse," Ginny told her.

"But a cute mouse."

"A famous mouse, soon," Harry said.

And a scared mouse, Ron noted as the small cage with the test subject inside was tied to the drone.

Five minutes later, the animal had survived the trip and the return without apparent harm - or, as Hermione put it, all its vitals were normal for a stressed mouse.

"So… who's going to be the first human through the portal?" Luna asked again, after positioning the drone on the other side so they could see the portal and any arrivals.

"I'll go first," Hermione said. "As agreed."

Ron didn't remember agreeing to that, but she was already moving towards the portal, so he hurried to catch up. "Be careful," he told her.

"It's just one step," she replied, smiling faintly - very faintly.

"One small step for a witch?" He raised his eyebrows with more humour than he felt.

She chuckled, nodding. "And you can pull me back if something goes wrong." Then she straightened, checked her harness and the line fastened to it, raised her chin and stepped through the portal.

On the screen, through the drone camera, Ron saw her stagger a little as she appeared in the clearing, but she waved at the drone. At them.

That was good enough for him. Ron followed her.

And was stretched, pulled. And twisted. Far more, far more extreme, than a human could survive. He wanted to scream, but couldn't.

Then he was kneeling on the snowy ground, panting and sweating, wanting to puke up his guts.

"It's rougher than I remember," Hermione told him. "But it has been seven years." She had untied the line and slipped out of her harness, he noticed.

She was also leaning against the closest tree and looking a little shaky herself. And breathing rapidly - he could tell since her breath was visible in the cold air.

He pushed himself up. Harry would be right behind him, and Ron would rather avoid getting vomit on his clothes, should his friend happen to lose his lunch.

But Harry didn't puke, either - though he, too, stumbled out of the portal and fell to his knees, gulping down air.

"I think we'll grow used to the sensation," Hermione said. "It's somewhat similar to being apparated."

Right now, Ron didn't want to think about doing this often enough to get used to it.

Luna appeared next, looking sick and happy at the same time - not unlike the time on their Spanish vacation when she had combined all the buffet's different desserts into one dish, then ate the whole thing. Then came Ginny, who retched but didn't actually vomit. Ron smiled sweetly at her - for once, his sporty sister wasn't handling something better than him.

After her came Dumbledore, and, to Ron's disappointment, the old man merely looked slightly disoriented and needed to grab Harry's arm to steady himself before he nodded and said: "That was quite an experience, I must say."

Finally, Sirius stepped out of the portal, cursing as he swayed and fell to his knees.

They had done it. They were in Hermione's world. In the magical world.

"Alright." Hermione stepped away from the tree she had been leaning against, brushing some snow off her shoulders. "I'll test that the portal lets us return as planned."

"No," Sirius said, slowly getting up. "I'll do it. If anything goes wrong, we'd be stranded here without you."

She frowned, but didn't have an argument against that, Ron noted. Not that he could think of one himself - hell, no one but her could even see, much less enter, a magical location.

"I'll go," Harry announced. "You can recover."

"Don't be daft," Sirius retorted. "Check the perimeter until I return." He stepped through the portal before anyone could react, leaving Harry to curse.

"Well…" Ron shrugged. "Let's do it. He'll wait a few minutes to recover before he returns."

Harry scoffed, obviously disagreeing with Ron's assessment, but nodded anyway.

"Careful - while we're not in the Forbidden Forest here," Hermione told them, "I don't know if the creatures living in that forest have spread since I left."

Ron shuddered, and not from the biting cold. Spiders as big as a car? Smart as a human? That was far worse than facing spiders when shrunk.

"If you see a wolf or centaur, don't shoot," she called after them.

"Right," Harry muttered as they started their sweep. "Don't hurt the monsters trying to kill us."

"They're not supposed to attack us without warning," Ron told him as he looked around. The forest looked just like the one back home. But it felt a little different. Somehow. Or that was just his imagination. Or it was the way he sank to his knees in the snow with each step. Perhaps they should have grabbed a pair of snowshoes, too. But this was just a quick check, not an expedition.

He kept his rifle ready, as alert as during one of Moody's surprise exercises, but they didn't encounter anything larger than a squirrel during their perimeter check. They did find tracks, though. And while Ron wasn't a hunter or tracking expert, Harry had been on a few hunts with Sirius.

"No horseshoes. Either there are some wild horses running around the area or centaurs roam here," Ron's friend said.

"Or unicorns," Ron pointed out.

"Right. Unicorns."

"Or Thestrals," Ron added.

"What?" Harry stared at him.

"Meat-eating skeletal horses that can fly with bat-like wings," Ron explained. "They can only be seen if you have seen death." That wasn't much of a limit for this group, of course.

"You're pulling my leg!" Harry protested.

"That was my reaction," Ron replied, "when she told me. Magic is weird."

"Yes. Let's get back."

Ron nodded. After all, whoever roamed this patch of the forest would be able to easily see their tracks in the snow as well.

When they returned to the portal, they saw Sirius lying on the ground, groaning. Next to a patch of vomit.

"He didn't wait long enough to recover," Hermione told them with a frown. "At least that's my guess."

"I thought," Sirius cut in, wheezing, "that I should… uh… get it over with quickly."

"Typical," Harry said, shaking his head. "No patience."

But Ron's friend knelt down next to his godfather and looked him over. "This isn't the time to make snow angels."

"Next time, you can suffer in my stead," Sirius said without opening his eyes.

"I wanted to - but you jumped the line," Harry pointed out.

Sirius huffed and turned his head away, which Ron took as a sign that he was recovering.

"It does raise the question, though," Dumbledore said, "whether there's a cumulative effect of travelling through the portal, independent of resting between trips."

"There shouldn't be," Hermione said. "But we'll find out once I've secured more supplies."

She was entirely too cavalier about that in Ron's opinion. If travelling through the portal had an effect that built up, that would limit the number of trips back and forth they could take. And that would affect their relationship as well.

But raising that point now would be stupid. They had a cache to recover.

"It's about two miles to your cache, isn't it?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes, about that distance - as the crow flies," Hermione said. "Through the snow without a path," she added.

Dumbledore inclined his head and smiled. "A nice trip in the snow." He had already prepared some snowshoes, Ron noticed. So much for the hope that Dumbledore would elect to stay behind at the portal.

A few minutes later - Sirius had apparently fully recovered - they set out, all of them now using snowshoes.

And Ron hoped that Dumbledore wouldn't collapse halfway to their destination. He really didn't want to lug the old man around.

* * *

"If I wanted to walk, I'd have joined the infantry," Sirius said when they took a break.

"So you've told us. Multiple times," Harry replied in a low voice.

"It bears repeating," the older man retorted. "And snow…"

"It's a little cold, yes," Dumbledore commented. "But we're dressed for the occasion, aren't we?"

Ron frowned. Dumbledore hadn't faltered during the trip so far. Hadn't complained, either - but then, Sirius complained for two, so that evened out. Ron was very glad that he hadn't met Dumbledore fifty, forty, years ago - if he was this fit in his eighties, he must have been a monster in his younger years.

Not that the man wasn't still a monster. He was probably even more dangerous in his old age. Just not physically. But he had people for that.

"It's not much further now," Hermione whispered. "I recognise this spot."

"So do I," Ginny muttered.

"I mean from when I was here," Hermione told her.

"I know."

Ron cleared his throat. "So, let's be off. The sooner we get the cache, the sooner we can return." Or have Hermione cast some spells to keep them warm and safe.

"Right!" Luna said, all but jumping up. "Hidden magic treasure awaits!"

"It's just a cache," Hermione told her.

"Ron really needs to teach you Dungeons & Dragons, Hermione," Luna replied. "It's treasure."

Hermione blinked, then glanced at Ron. He smiled at her, and she sighed and let the matter drop. "Let's go."

"Let's go!"

They took another twenty minutes to reach the cache. And Dumbledore wasn't the only reason for the slower speed - the forest changed. It got weirder the deeper they went, until they reached a small clearing with a few standing stones, about a foot high each, forming a rough circle.

"Oh! An ancient ritual place!" Luna gushed.

"It's a fake," Hermione told her, slowly turning around.

"What?" Luna whirled. "A fake?"

"It's not ancient. Ritual magic hasn't been taught at Hogwarts - by the time it was founded, wands had thoroughly replaced ritual magic. This was set up by a few students for 'self-study'," Hermione explained as she took a few measured steps from the northmost stone. "Which usually meant getting drunk under the sky, and then claiming it was a ritual."

"Oh. Did you do that?" Luna asked.

"No," Hermione replied. "I found out about it when I wanted to learn ritual magic." She tapped the ground with her foot. "Here."

"Alright. Give me a shovel," Ron said, stepping over to her.

She pulled two shovels out of her bag, obviously intending to help.

"Give the other one to Harry," he told her, grabbing one for himself.

"But…"

The ground would be frozen, at least on top. And she had no magic to make it easier. "You can fill in the hole when we're done." When she'd have a wand.

She rolled her eyes and handed the shovel to Harry. Ron and his friend started digging. It was as difficult as Ron had expected.

"Why would your friends have left supplies buried in the ground?" Ginny asked.

"They don't know about this cache," Hermione, peering at the ground next to Ron, said. "Each of us hid a small cache like this one without telling the others. That way, if one of us got captured and interrogated, we wouldn't lose all our supplies." She smiled, a little sadly. "I even told them to avoid Hogwarts since it was too dangerous, so they wouldn't suspect this location."

Ron stopped digging for a moment and looked at her. "Smart plan." A little underhanded, but smart.

"Indeed. Commendable foresight," Dumbledore added. "Being prepared for the worst is often a good choice."

"We tried," she told him. "It didn't always work out, despite all our planning."

"That happens," the old man stated.

They dug a bit longer in silence. Ron was about to ask Ginny to help them - she was the fittest amongst them, if not the strongest - when he hit something solid. More solid than frozen earth.

He crouched and carefully scraped the earth away, revealing a chest about a foot wide and a foot and a half long.

"It's here!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling at him - after beaming at the chest. She knelt next to him, heedless of the dirt and snow she got on her trousers, and ran her hands over the chest. "It's right… here!"

With a click, the chest's lid swung up, revealing its contents.

Ron saw more boxes and bags inside, smaller ones. And lots of vials.

Hermione had only eyes for one thing, though - a small, slim stick. She grabbed and raised it with an almost awed expression. "It's been so long…" she breathed, closing her eyes.

"I suppose that that's a magic wand."

For a moment, Hermione frowned deeply in response to Dumbledore's comment, but then she nodded. "Yes." She turned and faced the old man with an even expression, Ron saw. "With this, I can transport us back to the portal in an instant."

"Remarkable," Dumbledore replied. "Is that all it does?" he added, tilting his head.

"No," Hermione replied after a moment's hesitation. She flicked her wand, and, suddenly, Ron didn't feel cold any more.

"Oh, nice!"

"Thank you!"

"Finally!"

"Thank you, Dr Granger."

Hermione knelt again and started to put the rest of the chest's contents into her bag.

"What did you hide?" Luna asked, stepping up and peering at the chest over Hermione's shoulder.

"Money - galleons and pounds. Various potions, mostly healing potions. Robes and muggle clothes," Hermione replied. "I wanted to hide a broom as well, but we couldn't spare any."

"A flying broom?" Luna asked, and Ron didn't have to see her face to know she was beaming. "Can anyone use them?"

"A wizard can use them better, but they'll work for anyone trained to fly," Hermione said, stuffing the last pouch into her bag. Ron could tell when she noticed Luna's expression - Hermione froze for a moment, then sighed. "Before we can think about buying one, we'll have to find out how things are in Wizarding Britain."

"Quite," Dumbledore said. "I would suggest we return to the portal now before planning our next step."

Ron knew that Hermione had her next step - next few steps, actually - planned out already. So did Dumbledore, probably. But it was a good idea, nonetheless.

"Yes," she agreed. "I'll transport you back by Side-Along-Apparition. It's an instantaneous but not very comfortable method of transportation."

"Teleportation," Ron translated for the others and ignored her brief glare.

"Yes," she said with a slightly forced smile. "It'll feel as though you're being pushed and sucked through a garden hose."

"How does that feel, actually?" Luna asked. "I've never experienced that. I'm not sure garden hoses stretch that far."

"It's similar to the trip through the portal, though a bit less so," Hermione told her as she reached out.

It said a lot about Luna that she didn't look apprehensive in the least as she took Hermione's hand.

A moment later, both vanished with a slight 'pop' as the air filled the space where they had been.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore remarked. "I think I might have underestimated the potential of magic."

Ron was tempted to tell the former spymaster he should've read more fantasy and science fiction novels - but Dumbledore might actually do so. And Ron wasn't sure if giving the old man ideas was a good thing or not.

"Our missions certainly would've gone differently if Hermione had had a wand," Sirius said.

Indeed, Ron thought, she probably wouldn't have needed any of us.

Another popping noise announced Hermione's return. "I'm sorry for the delay," she said. "I haven't used Apparition for years, so I was a little… rusty." She looked a little queasy, Ron noticed.

"Rusty?" Harry asked.

"That feeling I mentioned?" She cocked her head. "It felt worse than I remembered. But I'll get used to it. Ron?" She held out her hand, and Ron took it.

Then he felt... like being pushed through a pipe really matched it best, he had to admit as he staggered after reappearing next to the portal. Taking a large gulp of air, he shook his head.

"You'll get used to it," Hermione told him.

"How long will that take?" he asked. She didn't look like a few trips would be enough - she was a little pale, still.

"It depends," she replied. "Some wizards never grow used to it; that's why brooms and the Floo Network are popular. Well, that and the dangers of splinching."

He froze. "I thought that was only a danger when you were attempting Apparition without a wand?" he asked. That was what he remembered her telling him and Harry.

"That's true - for a skilled wizard or witch," she told him. "But not everyone studies as hard as they should."

She raised her wand and disappeared again.

"Hermione certainly studied hard enough," Luna - who was looking unaffected - commented.

"Probably a little too hard," Ron agreed.

Hermione returned with Dumbledore next. The old man staggered as well, Ron noticed with some satisfaction. And he was taking a few deep breaths before he commented: "That was an experience, indeed. Although I'm not certain whether I should be looking forward to getting used to it."

Ron nodded in agreement before he could stop himself. Hermione would be using Apparition often, now that she had a wand. And he wanted to stay with her.

If she let him.

Fortunately, Hermione had already disappeared - disapparated - without catching his reaction. She returned more quickly the next time, with Ginny. A minute later, Harry and Sirius were back as well.

And it was time for the next step.

* * *

"Hogsmeade is the only all-wizard village in Britain," Hermione told them. "That means it is surrounded by Muggle-Repelling Charms and hidden from aerial view and other means of detection." She glanced at Dumbledore and added: "And yes, they work against satellites as well."

"Interesting," the old man commented, nodding. "Could you add such spells to the laboratory?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, "though it would take me quite some time, and it wouldn't be as effective - most of Hogsmeade's protections are centuries old, and the spells grew in power over time."

"But they would still defeat most mundane means of detection, wouldn't they?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted with a frown. Outmanoeuvred again, Ron thought. She pursed her lips before she continued: "Unlike Diagon Alley in London, Hogsmeade isn't set up for regular muggle visitors. However, since a number of wizards and witches marry muggles, there are ways past the Muggle-Repelling Charms."

"Closely-guarded, I would assume," Dumbledore said.

"The official ones are, yes. At least they were during the war. If there's still a conflict going on, then there will be guards present," she confirmed. "But I know the counter-spells to bypass the Muggle-Repelling Charms."

"You were planning to smuggle muggles into Hogsmeade?" Luna asked.

"I considered a few situations where that might have become useful. Or necessary," Hermione replied.

Ah. Probably involving muggle soldiers, Ron thought.

"You were planning to involve Her Majesty's Government in your war?" Dumbledore, of course, had figured that out as well.

"As a last resort," Hermione said, frowning again. "A desperate measure for a desperate situation," she added. "The Death Eaters would have already started attacking muggles in such a scenario."

"Ah." The old man nodded, but Ron couldn't tell if he actually agreed or not.

"If I recall correctly, Harry's somewhat famous in your world," Sirius pointed out.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Or, rather, Harry's counterpart is. As was yours, Mr Dumbledore. And Ron's counterpart, as well as myself, were among Wizarding Britain's most wanted. Which means we'll have to disguise ourselves."

"Oh! With a magic potion? I'd like to look like Ginny for an hour!" Luna smiled widely. "We could switch bodies!"

"That wouldn't be much of a disguise," Harry said.

"Of course it would! No one would recognise me if I looked like Ginny!" Luna retorted with a grin that told Ron she was pulling Harry's leg.

Judging by Harry's disapproving expression, he had realised that as well.

Ron chuckled with the others, though Hermione shook her head. "Polyjuice Potion doesn't keep long, so I didn't bother stocking the cache with any - it would have spoiled within a few weeks, at most."

"Aw."

"Sorry."

"But can we buy some in the village?" Luna perked up again.

"In theory, depending on the situation in Wizarding Britain," Hermione told her. "However, it is expensive and probably restricted."

"Aw… but can you brew it?" Luna was obviously not letting this go.

"I could, but it would take a month," Hermione replied. "So that would have to wait until we know more about how the war went."

"Yes," Harry said. "We can worry about frivolous magic once we're sure we're not going to be hunted down and killed by fascist wizards."

"Right! The revolution takes priority, of course!" Luna agreed.

"This is a simple reconnaissance mission," Hermione reminded her. "And I'll remind you: I'll be the only one to enter. And all of us will be wearing muggle disguises."

Ron pressed his lips together - he didn't agree with that plan. Not at all. But he hadn't been able to convince Hermione and Dumbledore.

"We'll provide backup, though," Sirius said, patting his machine gun.

"Only if I cannot escape on my own," she retorted. "It would be safer overall if you stayed behind here."

"We've gone over that," Sirius told her. "It's not safer for us if we have to worry about you getting captured and mind-controlled into spilling our location."

It wasn't the most convincing argument, but good enough, in Ron's biased opinion. When she glanced at him, he inclined his head with a wry grin. He certainly wouldn't speak up in favour of a plan which split the two of them up.

Hermione sighed and raised her new wand - she hadn't let go of it even once, Ron realised. "Alright, let me cast the counter-spells. Then I'll apparate us to the forest near Hogsmeade."

* * *

**Outside Hogsmeade, Scotland, Wizarding World, December 21st, 2005**

Seen through his binoculars, the village looked a lot like Ron had imagined a village in a medieval fantasy setting would look. Small houses, built close together, often three or four in a row, separated by narrow cobblestone alleys. Even the main street didn't look like two cars could pass each other. Hell, at two spots, it didn't look like an SUV could pass. Unless they used magic to shrink it or extended the street, of course. He snorted and focused on the task at hand. "It doesn't look like a village at war," he said. "A least not on my end."

"Not on my end, either," Harry added. "Of course, that doesn't tell us who won the war."

"It looks more peaceful than I remember," Hermione agreed. "I can see all the shops I used to frequent as a student. But the Death Eaters could have easily kept up appearances. Most villagers were purebloods, anyway. I think I'll have to enter and buy a newspaper."

"What about the statue?" Luna asked without lowering her own binoculars.

"What?" Hermione said.

"The statue at the train station," Luna explained.

"There isn't supposed to be a statue there," Hermione told her.

But there was. And while they were too far away to make out details, they could tell that whoever it depicted wasn't wearing the flowing robes people on the street down there wore. In fact, it looked a bit like… Ron shook his head. That was just his imagination.

But the longer he studied it, the more certain he was.

"I think that's a statue of you, Hermione."

"What?" She stared at him over her lowered binoculars, then raised them again and turned back to study the statue. "It doesn't look like me," she said without taking her eyes off it. "I look completely different."

"The hair matches," Luna pointed out. "Well, it would if you weren't wearing a blonde wig. We'd have to get closer to check the face. And get to the other side - unless you know a spell to turn the statue round?"

Hermione didn't answer - she was still staring at the statue. Ron cleared his throat. "It has a bag that looks like yours."

After about half a minute, Hermione lowered her binoculars again. "I need to check this out up close," she declared.

"Not alone!" Ron said, reaching out to touch her arm. Just in case she decided to do something foolish.

She opened her mouth, turning to face him, then closed it again, pressing her lips together until they formed a thin, pale line, as she stared at him.

He met her eyes without flinching. After a few more seconds, she sighed. "Alright."

"Yes! Let's all go!" Luna cheered.

"No!" Hermione snapped. "It's too dangerous."

"Do you think that this could be a trap?" Dumbledore asked. "There were some quite elaborate traps laid during the Cold War. The Czechoslovaks built fake border crossings some miles from the actual border to catch dissidents fleeing the Stalinist regime."

"It's not impossible," she replied. "Though it seems a little too blunt if they plan to catch protesters or dissidents."

"Wouldn't such a display focus on Mr Potter's counterpart instead? As I recall, he was the most famous of your group," Dumbledore commented.

"Yes," Hermione all but spat. "But it's still too dangerous for all of us to go there. I cannot apparate with more than two people."

"Harry and I'll go with you, then," Ron said at once.

"And I'll be ready to provide fire support," Sirius added.

Hermione sighed. "Alright."

"But…" Luna started.

"If it's safe, we can all follow them," Dumbledore told her with a smile. "It shouldn't take long to find out how things are, I believe."

"No, it won't." Hermione stared at the village. "I'll apparate us right to the statue. But hide your weapons and wear robes."

"Of course," Ron said as he handed her his rifle. "Can you change some sticks so they'll look like wands?"

"Yes." Hermione flicked her wand, and two twigs on the ground nearby changed into more elaborate, carved sticks. A swish later, they were floating towards Harry and Ron.

And Dumbledore was taking notes, Ron saw.

But he would find out the truth about wands and wizards anyway, one way or another. Either from observing Hermione's friends - or by being briefed about Death Eaters.

"Ready?" Hermione asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes," he replied, reaching out to hold her hand.

A moment spent as if he were squished through a narrow pipe later, they appeared in front of the statue.

And looked at the plaque in the foot of it.

_Hermione Granger. Brightest Witch of Her Age._

He heard her gasp. "Oh…"

"I think that settles it," Harry said, a little too casually. "Your friends won the war."

"They would do this…" She shook her head. "It has to be them."

Then she started to sob.

Ron stepped up and wrapped his left arm around her shoulders. She turned towards him, crying into his shoulder. "We won. We won," he heard her mumble while he patted her back, unsure what he should say. Her friends had won. They were probably alive, too, if he understood the situation correctly. She wouldn't have to fight a war.

"Head's up, company coming," Harry suddenly hissed.

Ron looked up. Two people wearing red robes were walking towards them. A man and a woman. Red robes? Weren't they the wizard police? "Aurors?"

Hermione, still crying, looked up as well. "Yes," she said, sniffling.

"Good afternoon. Do you require assistance?" the woman asked. "I'm Auror Parkinson, and this is my partner, Auror Travers." Those names...

"Parkinson? Travers?" Hermione suddenly jerked.

"Not _those_ Parkinsons or Travers," the witch replied with a grimace. Looking at Ron, she added: "Are you unwell?"

"Ah, she's just a little…" Ron shrugged. "She lost some friends in the war." Travers and Parkinson - those had been Death Eaters on Hermione's list. Of course, the pair here looked too young to have fought in the war.

"Ah." Parkinson looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Did you recently return?" Travers asked. "I mean… it's been seven years since…" He nodded at the statue. "The Battle of Hogwarts."

"Yes," Hermione said, chuckling through her sobs. "You might say that."

That was a mistake, Ron thought - no police officer liked to hear remarks like that. And as he feared, both Aurors frowned at that. "What's your name, Miss?" Parkinson asked.

"Ah. Helen. Helen Smith," Hermione said.

Another mistake. "Sorry, we should leave," Ron told them, smiling as apologetically as he could manage. "It's a bit too much for her, I'm afraid."

Travers didn't seem impressed. "And your name is, Mr...?"

"Smith. Will Smith."

"Like the actor?" Parkinson looked deeply suspicious now.

"Yes. And it's a pain whenever I go to the movies," Ron replied. "Someone always makes a stupid joke."

"Ah."

They didn't relax, Ron noticed.

"Brown. Jeff Brown," Harry added, unprompted.

Both of them were frowning and staring at them. "What did you say?"

"My name," Harry replied. "What did you think I said?" he added with a grin.

Parkinson blinked. "Head Auror Potter? Is this another test?"

"And you're Senior Auror Weasley!" Travers added, staring at Ron. "I knew I had heard your voice before!"

Oh. The two Aurors thought that Ron and Harry were their counterparts in disguise. Whew.

"Head Auror Potter? Senior Auror Weasley?" Hermione blurted out.

"You didn't know?" Parkinson said. "Oh no! Did we ruin an undercover operation?"

"It wasn't our fault this time!" Travers shook his head.

Ron looked at Hermione. She was the witch here.

But she was just staring at the two Aurors. And, he realised, having another flashback.

* * *

_"Hey…"_

_"Yes?" She looked up from the cauldron where another potion for treating wounds was coming along nicely._

_"I was wondering…" He shrugged. "Once the war's over and all the Death Eaters dead…"_

_"Yes?"_

_"What are you going to do?" He looked at her._

_"You mean… as a career?" Or did he mean…?_

_"Yes." He nodded. A little too quickly._

_"I think I'll work at the Ministry," she said. "Push reforms through. Ensure that this war won't happen again."_

_"Ah." He nodded. "Should've known," he added with a grin._

_"What about you?"_

_"Oh." He blinked. "I want to play Quidditch professionally."_

_Oh. "Are you sure?"_

_He chuckled. "Oh, I know I'm no prodigy, not like Harry. But I love Quidditch. And I should be good enough for the Cannons."_

_She snorted. As far as she knew, not having a Keeper would've been better than that team's current Keeper since their inept attempts to catch the Quaffle had actually caused a few Quaffles to score which would have otherwise missed._

_"I know, I know. But anything will be better than fighting."_

_"Yes." She agreed wholeheartedly with that sentiment._

_"What about you, Harry?" he asked._

_"Quidditch. Or broom racing. Or Quodpot," their friend replied. "As long as I can fly as fast as I want, and make some money doing it."_

_"Join me, Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "With you as the Canons' Seeker, and me as the Keeper, we'd have a shot at the Cup! I just need to keep the other team from scoring more than fifteen times before you catch the Snitch."_

_Harry laughed. "Why not? I'll give it a go."_

_"I'll hold you to it, mate!"_

_"But you'll have to convince them to hire us."_

_"What? You think they'll refuse to hire the youngest Seeker in a century? Any team would hire you in a heartbeat."_

_"Well… I think the Harpies wouldn't."_

_"Well…"_

_She smiled as the two boys continued to make plans. And she tried not to think about the war._


	35. Chapter 35: The Reunion

Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. Their help is invaluable.

* * *

**Chapter 35: The Reunion**

**Hogsmeade, Scotland, Wizarding World, December 21st, 2005**

Ron saw Hermione shaking her head and blinking as she returned to the present. "Sorry," she said, then took a deep breath. "This is too much. We need to leave."

"She's had a flashback to the war," Harry told the Aurors. "Please excuse us."

Parkinson and Travers exchanged a glance. "Do you need assistance, sir?" Parkinson asked. "We're on patrol, but things have been quiet."

"And we can help with your mission, sir!" Travers added, sounding as eager as Colin back home.

"That's not necessary," Harry replied. "It's a private matter."

"Oh."

"Sorry, sir." Parkinson glared at Travers. "Come on, Michael! Let's go! I don't want a demerit because you're bothering the Head Auror during a mission!"

She dragged him away, but Ron could hear the Auror protesting: "But he just said it wasn't a mission!"

"Let's get back to the others before Sirius thinks we're under attack and starts machine-gunning the village," Ron said in a low voice.

"Yes." Hermione nodded, sounding more composed, and took their hands.

They reappeared next to the others. "What happened?" Luna asked before Ron had recovered his balance. "Those two were the police, weren't they? Red robes, like Hermione described."

"Yes, they were Aurors," Hermione confirmed.

"Rookies," Harry said with a grin. "Fresh out of training."

"They did recognise us, though," Ron pointed out.

"They recognised our voices," his friend retorted. "We didn't think about that."

"We should have," Hermione said with a sigh. "_I_ should have."

"You didn't know that your friends would be part of the Aurors," Ron told her.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I take it that the statue is indeed depicting Dr Granger, then?"

"Yes. 'Brightest Witch of Her Age'," Ron said.

"That's a joke," Hermione protested. "Ron - this world's Ron - used to tease me by saying that. That they would put it on a statue…" She shook her head.

"They might have done it because of that," Ginny suggested. "A private joke?"

"Perhaps," Hermione admitted. "But still… a statue? And at Hogsmeade station?"

"It's not exactly in the centre of the village," Luna pointed out.

"The station is only in use when the Hogwarts Express transports the students to and from London," Hermione explained. "People use the Floo Network, Apparition or brooms for travelling. And Portkeys on occasion."

"Fascinating. But I think we should continue our speculation back in our world," Dumbledore said. "We've been here for a significant amount of time, and people back home might be getting a little impatient."

By which the old man meant Grindelwald, of course. But he wasn't wrong - they should plan their next move in a safer location. Preferably where they weren't at risk of getting cut off from their home world.

"But we haven't even confirmed the date…" Hermione met his eyes, and Ron shook his head. They weren't ready for another encounter. She wasn't ready. "Alright," she said after a moment. "I'll transport us back to the portal."

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 21st, 2005**

Grindelwald was already talking to Dumbledore when Ron stepped through the portal, back to his home world. The German must have been waiting right next to the portal, Ron realised. He didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign.

"You shouldn't have taken so long," the old German said. "Nor taken so many risks."

"We didn't take any risks," Luna protested. "We didn't even go into the magical village - only Harry and Ron went with Hermione!"

"Yes, Gellert," Dumbledore confirmed. "We stuck to observing from afar."

Grindelwald scoffed. "But you won't restrain yourself like that in the future."

"As you know - nothing beats first-hand information." The old spymaster grinned.

"Really. And what did you find out on your long recon mission?"

"That my friends won the war," Hermione, who had recovered by now, told him.

"And that they erected a statue in your honour!" Luna added.

"Really?" Grindelwald didn't quite sneer, but he came close.

"The inscription on the pedestal strongly suggests that," Hermione told him. "We didn't have time to find out the date, though. And we haven't made contact with my friends or family, yet."

"That will be our next step, I believe. Now that teleportation - I'm sorry, Apparition - is possible, travelling from the portal's location should be far easier and quicker than previously thought," Dumbledore said, "so a trip to London shouldn't take any longer than a trip to 'Hogsmeade' on the other side of the lake."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I'll need to visit my parents."

"After you have closed the portal and checked on your machinery," Grindelwald said with a sniff. "I'm not losing Albus to your world because you missed a computer glitch."

"Of course," Hermione replied through gritted teeth.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the portal had been closed, and Grindelwald and Dumbledore had left the laboratory - or should that be 'the Portal Chamber' now? Ron didn't know. He was sure that they were still under observation, however; he didn't think either Grindelwald or Dumbledore would have missed the opportunity to place more surveillance in the walls during reconstruction. He could even understand it - this was, after all, a possible gateway for an invasion. That was also the reason that there were shaped charges in the walls.

That didn't mean he had to like it, of course. He would prefer actual privacy, not just the appearance of it - but they couldn't go running around the lake any more. And he didn't think Hermione would want to.

"So! London next?" Luna asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. Ron noted that she wasn't taking her eyes off the generators she was testing. "I need to see my parents."

"We understand." Luna nodded, sniffling a little. "I'd do the same." But her counterpart's mum was dead, like her own.

Ginny hugged her. "Yes."

"Though it'll be a shock for them," Sirius commented.

"That depends on how much time has passed there," Ron pointed out. With magic, a statue could probably be erected in a minute.

"Oh. We could be entering future or past London," Luna said. "Like time travel!"

"I think the differences caused by being an alternate world would be more significant than a difference of a few years," Ron replied. He glanced at Hermione. That was an opening for a lecture from her if he had ever heard one, but she was still focusing on the generators. Or pretending to focus on them.

"So…" Sirius made a point of checking the time on his wristwatch. "It's almost time for dinner. Do we eat here, or in London?"

"Which London?" Luna asked.

She was right, Ron realised. With Hermione finally having a wand, they could travel in this world as well.

"I need at least an hour for the ritual," Hermione told them, finally straightening from where she had been checking the cables of the last generator.

"We'd have to put on disguises before travelling to our London," Harry said. "Or we risk being spotted by the press."

"Or the government. Or the Russians," Luna added. "But they wouldn't know our voices."

"It was just bad luck that we met personal acquaintances of Harry and my counterparts," Ron said.

"I didn't say it wasn't," Luna replied. "But I like disguises."

"I think we should eat here tonight, and return to my home dimension tomorrow," Hermione told them. "We'll be less likely to make mistakes after a good night's rest."

And she would have time to adjust. Ron nodded. "Yes. And we shouldn't turn you into a cab."

Everyone laughed at his joke, but Ron didn't miss that a few of their companions sounded a little guilty.

* * *

"So…" Ron stretched on their bed, watching as Hermione finished undressing in front of the armoire. "How do you feel?" It wasn't the best opening, but he hadn't been able to think of a better one. At least it was honest.

"About seeing my parents?" she asked without turning to face him as she slipped into her pyjama pants and top.

"About everything," he told her. "The statue, your friends' careers, returning to your parents…"

He heard her sigh as she turned to face him with a wry expression. "I don't know."

"Ah."

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, then sighed again. "It's… I've thought for years about this. Imagined the moment when I would return. And yet, I don't know how to feel. It's all…" She shrugged.

"Not like you imagined it."

"No," she replied. "I feared I'd return to a world under Voldemort's rule, with all my friends and family dead. I hoped I'd return to find them waiting for me, happy."

"Well, they could be happy?" Ron shrugged. "Harry's counterpart is the Head Auror, after all."

She frowned. "I wouldn't have imagined them working as Aurors. They wanted to play Quidditch professionally. We talked about that, during the war." Sitting down on the bed, she added: "They might not have been serious, of course. But still… Aurors?" She snorted. "Perhaps I should've expected that since you and Harry are police officers. I guess I was too… naive. I wanted things to work out like we'd dreamed."

Not for much longer, of course. And Ron didn't like to think that he was similar to her Ron. "Well, I wasn't unhappy, working as a police officer. And it means we won't have trouble with the law."

She snorted. "The odds of that are lower, at least."

"What? Do you expect them to arrest us for illegal dimensional travel?" He chuckled.

"There could be a law against that, actually," she said. "The Unspeakables tightly regulate time travel, after some particularly unfortunate experiments in the nineteenth century. But I've never even heard about dimensional travel, so that shouldn't be a concern. Unless the Unspeakables erase even the mention of it."

Now that was a thought Ron could have done without. He wouldn't sleep easily pondering that.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 22nd, 2005**

"We should acquire generators and computers in my home world," Hermione said as they were sitting down for breakfast in the 'lounge'. "And I need to construct a second quantum mirror cage."

"Oh? Are you planning to set up a mirror site?" Ron asked. He grinned at her narrow-eyed reaction. "What? That's a perfectly fine name."

She huffed. "It's a precaution. If something happens to the portal's power supply here, it'll allow us to return far more quickly than if we weren't prepared."

And it would grant them independence from the Phoenix Gruppe. Which might not be received favourably by Grindelwald and Dumbledore.

"It's a good idea!" Luna agreed, nodding between eating her way through three croissants, each with a different sort of jam spread on them, one bite a time.

"Do you plan to copy your notes as well?" Harry asked.

Ron knew what his friend meant: Was Hermione also preparing for her own possible incapacitation? Or for her replacement, should she decide to abandon them?

"Yes," she replied. "You never know what might happen."

"Ah." Ron nodded. That made sense, of course. Good sense. But it would also make good sense if she wanted to ditch them.

"I can build the parts for a second quantum mirror cage here - there are enough spares available - and the computers are easily available in either dimension. The generators, though, are too big to be transported through the portal without a Shrinking Charm," she explained.

"And moving nine spare generators into a room that doesn't have enough space for them, much less when you consider the generators already here, would expose magic to the government," Ginny said.

"Not necessarily," Sirius retorted. "They might think we're storing them in an extended room."

"If they think we can do that, they'll expect tangible, useful results very soon, though," Harry pointed out.

"That's true," his godfather conceded. "Do we have money available on the other side? We could buy the generators there."

"The money of both countries seems to be identical," Hermione replied, "but I haven't tested that. And using cash in such large amounts will draw attention from the government."

"Which you can avoid with magic," Harry told her.

"I prefer not to mess with people's minds, but yes," Hermione admitted. "But it would also be illegal in Wizarding Britain."

"And we cared about the law since when?" Luna asked. "An unjust law does not need to be obeyed!"

"'Don't mind-control muggles' isn't exactly an unjust law," Hermione retorted.

Luna pouted but didn't contradict her. A moment later, though, she perked up. "I could fake a business. That way, we can order the generators legally!"

"I don't think actually laundering money in order to avoid giving the impression that we are laundering money is a good idea," Hermione pointed out.

Ron had to suppress a chuckle at Luna's expression. "What about stealing them, and leaving valuables in their place?"

"That would still be breaking the law," he told her.

"But it would be a victimless crime!" She nodded. "Problem solved!"

"We actually did similar things during the war," Hermione admitted. "But we were at war."

"I think after the latest attack by the Russians, we can justifiably claim that we're at war as well," Sirius said.

"Wouldn't it be much simpler if you bought the generator parts here and shrank them somewhere before transporting them to the lab?" Ginny asked.

"Yes. Yes, that should work," Hermione said after a moment. "I should've thought of that myself."

"So should I," Ron added, feeling more than a little stupid for missing that.

"That's why we have planning sessions," Sirius said, apparently unfazed. "Could you pass the tea?"

* * *

"That's an excellent idea!" Dumbledore nodded, appearing pleased, half an hour later in the laboratory. "Gellert will rest much easier if he knows we're not about to be cut off for days or weeks due to a mishap."

"It'll still take time to set up a lab on the other side," Hermione explained. "And we would need to find another suitable location - this is too close to Hogwarts in my world."

"Those are at worst minor challenges," Dumbledore said. "You've already thought of a few potential locations, haven't you?"

Ron thought that the old man was entirely too supportive of the idea even though it would grant them much more freedom. He was probably already planning to recruit a replacement wizard or witch.

"Yes," she admitted. "There are a few spots I scouted in this world. But most of them are occupied by wizards and witches in my world."

"Most of them?"

"There are one or two locations where we could set up a second site," she said. "But installing the necessary equipment will take some time, even with magic."

"Of course. In any case, it's not so urgent as to justify delaying your plans to visit your parents," the old man told her with a smile.

"Indeed," she retorted. "I'll start the ritual."

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

The transit felt as bad as it had the first time - and the second time - but no worse. At least that was Ron's impression as he looked around the other side of the portal and tried not to retch. A few deep breaths helped as he moved a few steps to the side - just in time before Harry stepped through.

"It seems clear," Ron told Harry.

"'Seems'?" Harry shot back - his imitation of Moody's tone worse than usual due to his own struggle with portal queasiness. Or would that be portal sickness?

Ron snorted anyway. "It snowed overnight, so the tracks have been covered."

"But that also means we can't tell if someone followed our tracks," Harry pointed out. "Unless there's a spell for that."

Ron didn't think there was - Hermione would have mentioned that, wouldn't she? - but he didn't know. He did realise, though, that 'unless there's a spell for that' would crop up again and again, until they learnt far more about magic.

If they ever did, of course.

Hermione was next, wand out. And looking more than a little queasy herself as she bent over.

"So there's no spell to deal with portal sickness, is there?" Ron commented as he held out his hand to her.

She took his hand. "'Portal sickness'?"

He shrugged. "As good a name as any, right?"

"Is that from a book?"

"Probably," he admitted, "but I don't recall a specific work right now."

"Ah." She nodded and straightened while Ginny arrived, followed by Luna. "It… fits," she said.

He grinned. "You don't have to tell anyone that it's from a science fiction or fantasy novel when you use the term."

She sniffed in response, then took a few more deep breaths. "As soon as Sirius and Dumbledore arrive, I'll start transporting us to London."

"Can you reach it in one casting?" Harry asked.

"That might increase the risk of splinching," she replied, pursing her lips.

Ron winced. To imagine leaving part of your body behind… "Better take it easy," he said.

"Yes," Harry agreed.

* * *

**Greenwich, London, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

"Alright, I'm OK now!"

She didn't look like she had fully recovered, in Ron's opinion. This many Apparition trips had taken a lot out of her, and that she had done it right after having stepped through the portal hadn't helped, of course. But she didn't look like she'd faint at any moment any more. And he knew her expression - she wouldn't budge, so arguing was pointless.

Harry tried it anyway. "You should rest a little longer, or your parents will probably mistake you for a patient."

She scoffed. "They're dentists."

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "Their patients look like that after they're done with them, not before."

"Very funny," Hermione replied, standing up and stepping away from the bench on which she had been sitting. "I'm fine."

"That's Harry's line," Luna said.

"Hey!"

Ron was already at her side. "At least wait until the light turns green," he told her.

She glared at him as well. "Do you honestly expect me to run into traffic?"

"Better safe than sorry," he replied. He didn't, not really. But even a little delay and distraction would help her. "It'll be fine," he whispered as they waited for the lights to turn green.

She didn't answer, but she took his hand and squeezed. He glanced back at the others. Harry gave him a nod and leaned back on the bench - he and the rest would keep an eye on the building.

Half a minute later, Ron and Hermione reached the building across the street, and Hermione stopped. "It's open," she said, looking at the sign at the door. _Dental Practice Ellen and Gabriel Granger._

"You expected that," he reminded her. It was too early for them to have gone to lunch already.

"Yes. But I wasn't sure. Things could've changed."

Had she, consciously or subconsciously, hoped that her parents wouldn't be present? Ron couldn't tell. Hermione was bloody brave and stubborn as hell, but this wasn't an attack by or on mercenaries or spies. This was reuniting with her parents, who thought she had been killed seven years ago.

And seeing how she reacted to the statue in Hogsmeade… He wrapped his arms around her. "It'll be fine," he whispered into her ear.

She sighed, leaning against him for a moment. Then she tensed and straightened. "Yes."

They entered the building and took the stairs to the first floor, where the practice was situated.

An older woman sitting at a desk greeted them with a polite smile. "Hello. Do you have an appointment?" The sign on the desk read 'Linda Baker', Ron noticed.

Hermione stiffened for a moment. "Hello, Mrs Baker. No, we don't have an appointment. We're here on personal business with... the Grangers. We can wait until they are free, if they are busy."

Mrs Baker frowned. "Personal business? With both of them?" She was staring at them and seemed to be slightly puzzled. Probably by their disguises - not many people Ron's age sported a full beard and Hermione's wig, a platinum blonde mane, had gone out of style almost twenty years ago.

"Private business," he told her.

"Ah." She slowly nodded.

He was puzzled by her reaction. Had she spotted the pistol under his jacket? It shouldn't have been visible, but he could see that the woman was tense now. She didn't look afraid, though. Or nervous. What was he missing?

Before he managed to find out, the door to the right of the desk opened, and Mrs Granger ushered a young man out. "Your cheek will go back to normal in an hour or two," she told him. "And please be more careful in the future."

"I will," the man replied.

Mrs Granger turned to Mrs Baker. "Linda, pencil him in for a follow-up check in a week, so we can get rid of the stitches."

"Yes, Ellen." Mrs Baker nodded towards them. "These two claim to have private personal business with you."

"Oh?"

"Yes," Hermione said, with a glance at the patient. As soon as the man had left, she took off her fake glasses and pulled off her wig, then remained standing as if she were frozen while Mrs Granger gasped. "Hermione?"

She nodded, swallowing.

"But… but…" her mother stammered.

Ron glanced at Hermione. Her mouth was half-open, but she wasn't saying anything.

"They said…" Mrs Granger was shaking her head. There were tears in her eyes, Ron noticed. But she wasn't stepping closer. And Hermione seemed frozen. Mrs Baker seemed to be getting over her surprise but was still looking confused.

He pulled his fake beard off and removed his wig. "It's a long story, Mrs Granger."

"Ron?"

Oh. This world's Ron had to be closer to this world's Grangers than Ron had expected.

"You told me that she died!" Mrs Granger exclaimed. "What's going on?"

Great. This was his counterpart's fault.

"You said Hermione had an accident at school," Mrs Baker said. "In her last year."

"That was a cover story," Ron explained.

"You lied to us?" Mrs Granger looked furious. But then she glanced at Hermione, and her expression softened.

"Ron didn't lie to you, Mum," Hermione finally said. "He didn't know what had happened to me." Neither she nor her mother had taken a step since she had taken off her wig. "I was trapped in a burning room when I was transported to another world."

"What?" Mrs Granger and Mrs Baker said at the same time.

"It took me seven years to find a way back," Hermione continued, apparently heedless of the two women's obvious doubt. "I knew it was possible, but the original event had been an accident, and I had to combine quantum physics and magic to reverse-engineer the event. Ritual magic."

"Magic?" Mrs Baker scoffed. "What rubbish is this?"

Hermione seemed to ignore the receptionist. "I'm sorry, Mum… I wanted to return sooner, but it simply couldn't be done. I had to study physics, first, and then secure a grant for my research, and then I was attacked by some criminals, which brought in the police and…" She shook her head wildly. "I'm sorry," she said, and Ron saw that tears were running down her cheeks.

Mrs Granger looked shaken and took a step forward, towards Hermione. "Hermione… is it really you?"

"Yes, Mum."

Both of them were crying now, but they were still a yard apart. Ron wanted to push them together, but Mrs Baker scoffed. "Magic? Magic isn't real! I'm getting Gabriel!"

She was at the other door before Ron could react - or decide if he should stop her.

"Gabriel! Come, quickly!"

"Dad?" Hermione asked, turning her head.

A moment later, Mr Granger appeared at the door. "What's this…" he trailed off as soon as he saw Hermione. "Hermione?"

She nodded. "Yes, Dad. I didn't have an accident - or, rather, I didn't die in the accident."

"Gabriel! She claims she was transported to another world by magic!" Mrs Baker said.

"Ron?" Mr Granger looked at him.

Ron nodded. "I'm not your Ron, though."

"What?"

"I'm from the other world," Ron explained. He looked at the door. Was there a patient on the chair in the other room? They really should've done this in private. Without witnesses.

"The other world." Mr Granger looked like he didn't believe them, either. But when the man glanced at Hermione, his expression made it obvious that he wanted to believe.

"Yes. A parallel world, just without magic," Hermione said, blinking and wiping her eyes. Explaining seemed to help her recover her composure, Ron noted. "I met Harry and Ron's counterparts there."

"She saved my life," Ron cut in. He quickly realised that his comment hadn't helped, though, when both Grangers frowned at him.

"Mum! Dad!" Hermione exclaimed. "Please - I'm telling the truth. I can prove it!"

"How?" Mrs Granger asked. "We know what magic can do…" she trailed off.

"I know things no one else could know," Hermione said. "What happened on my fifth birthday. My first book. Mr Biggles!" She sniffled again. "Please. You can also test my DNA."

Ron watched the Grangers. They seemed to be wavering. Mrs Baker looked very sceptical, but no one was listening to her. It looked like…

Harry's voice in his earbud interrupted his thoughts. "Ron. You and I just walked into the building."

Oh no. Their counterparts were here. "Hermione," he snapped. "The other Ron and Harry are coming. They just entered the building."

She gasped. "But why?"

They must have been talking to the two rookies, Ron realised. But why would they come here?

"Ron and Harry?" Mr Granger asked.

"This world's Ron and Harry," Ron explained. He took a step back and turned to keep the entrance in his field of view. "Hermione?"

She looked shocked, blinking through tears.

"Hermione? Should we leave?"

"What?" She looked at him, then shook her head. "No… no."

Did she mean no to leaving, or no to meeting her friends? Ron was about to ask, but then the door opened, and he saw the other Ron enter - and his eyes widen in mid-step. A moment later, the man's wand appeared in his hand.

But Ron was already jumping towards the reception desk. Two red lights shot past him before he landed behind it. He drew his gun without thinking.

"Stop! Harry! Ron! Stop!" he heard Hermione scream.

"No!"

"Ron! Harry!"

"What the hell!" Ron heard himself cursing. "Hermione?"

He moved to the corner and glanced around it. Hermione was standing in front of the desk, arms spread and facing the two wizards. And… Ron blinked. There was a shimmering sphere covering her - she must have cast a shield or something. He couldn't see the two wizards, though - he would have to expose himself for that.

"Don't curse him! It's me, Hermione!"

"Hermione's dead." That was Harry's voice. His counterpart's.

"I didn't die in the Room of Requirement. I used the broken Vanishing Cabinet to save myself," Hermione said very quickly. "It worked, but I was transported to a parallel dimension. Probably because of the nature of the Room, in combination with the Fiendfyre wrecking it and all the clutter left there. It took me seven years to find a way to return."

"That's ridiculous!" Harry's counterpart scoffed.

"I can prove it!"

"That's not her wand!" Ron's counterpart snapped.

Uh oh.

"I lost my wand in the Room!" Hermione blurted out. "This is a wand from the cache I hid during the war - you know, the one I didn't tell you about so you couldn't betray its location should you get captured. Who else would know that?"

"That's common knowledge," Harry replied, scoffing.

"And you picked up a copy of me? Who's hiding behind you? Yeah, right!" Ron's counterpart added.

What the…?

Ron stood - slowly - behind the desk, keeping his gun out of sight. "I wasn't hiding behind her," he said, glaring at his counterpart. "I was staying behind cover so Hermione could explain things without me having to shoot you."

"Shoot me?"

"Ron's your muggle counterpart," Hermione said. "We met in the other world."

"A muggle me?" Ron's counterpart snorted, but he didn't sound amused.

"Yes," Ron told him with narrowed eyes. What a git! "You got something against muggles?"

"What?" His counterpart glared back. Good - he must have hit a nerve.

"We saved each other's lives. Multiple times," Ron said. "Without magic." The two wizards had spread out, so he had trouble keeping an eye on both of them.

"Well, I did use potions," Hermione said. "But I didn't have a wand."

"Hah!"

Ron glared at the wizard, but before he could tell the git off, Harry's voice sounded in his earbud again. "We're coming in."

"Damn," Ron cursed. "Harry and the others are coming."

"The others?"

"More muggles? Harry?"

"My world's Harry," Ron said. "My partner."

"Police officers," Hermione told them.

Both wizards were already moving to the side so they wouldn't be caught in a crossfire. "Police? Are they armed?" the wizarding Harry asked.

"Of course we are," Ron said. He didn't quite sneer. "You think we'd enter a new world unarmed? And face Death Eaters?"

"All the Death Eaters are dead," his counterpart shot back.

"All of them?" Hermione gasped.

Harry's - Ron's Harry - voice interrupted them. "Don't shoot or curse, we're coming in!"

"Took you longer than I expected," Ron yelled back.

"We had to wait at the red light," Harry replied. A moment later, he entered, and Ron saw that his friend had shed his disguise as well.

"He's got no scar, Harry," Ron's counterpart said.

"On my chest," Harry replied, but he was staring at his own counterpart.

This had gone well beyond awkward, but at least they weren't fighting each other.

"Merlin's balls! Sirius?"

"What? Sirius?"

"My godfather," Harry told them.

Ron saw Harry's counterpart falter and felt a twinge of sympathy.

"In the flesh. Wow, it's like you were twins. Although with vastly different senses of style," Sirius commented. He was right, Ron realised - the wizards were wearing jeans, shirts and trainers. None of them fashionable.

"Dumbledore?"

"Bloody hell!"

Ah, right. They wouldn't have expected the old man, either.

"Good morning," the former spymaster said, smiling his usual polite and friendly smile. "I think everyone would appreciate it if we all stood down. No one is here to fight, after all."

To Ron's annoyance, both his and Harry's counterparts actually started to lower their wands - but then raised them again. "This could be a trick," his counterpart said.

"And what would be the point of it?" Hermione asked. "And how would we have done it? You can't use parts of dead people with Polyjuice Potion. And if we could use Transfiguration to change our appearance with that degree of precision, why wouldn't we copy Harry perfectly?"

"Well, you sound like Hermione," Ron's counterpart said. He hadn't stashed his wand, though.

"Is it safe now?"

"It should be... Let's go in, Ginny!"

"What the…?"

"Ginny? Luna?"

"Hello! Wow, you look just like my Ron and Harry! Apart from the scar, but that could be faked using makeup. And the clothes, of course. And you're in the police as well, but nobody's perfect."

"Luna?"

While Ginny moved to Harry's side, Luna marched up to the other Harry and Ron, apparently unconcerned about the wands levelled at her. "Yes, it's me. Well, not your me. Does my counterpart look very different to me? That would be weird, wouldn't it? But also kind of special. Oh! Mr and Mrs Granger, hello! You look exactly like my world's Grangers!"

"Bloody hell!" Ron's counterpart cursed again, but he did, finally, lower his wand.

Well, Luna tended to have that effect on people.

"What… this is… What is going on? This man is armed! And… I don't understand!"

Oh, right - Ron had forgotten about the receptionist, Mrs Baker. Moody would have his hide if he knew. But the woman could be trouble. If she went to the police... Ron didn't think they would accept that he was allowed to carry a gun in his home world.

"Obliviate."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped.

"What?" Ron's counterpart turned to face her.

"You can't just obliviate her!"

"Why not? It's not the first time," he retorted.

"What?"

"Ah…" Mr Granger cleared his throat. "Linda tends to be a little, ah, stubborn when magic is mentioned."

"She once tried to get Ron and Harry committed," Mrs Granger added.

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "I didn't know. Wait… why would she even know about magic?"

"Ron wasn't always, ah, as discreet as he should've been when we visited," Harry's counterpart told her.

"I got drunk and came to apologise," Ron's counterpart said.

"Apologise?"

"For getting our daughter… you… killed," Mr Granger explained.

"Oh."

Ron had the impression that it hadn't been a single incident. If his counterpart had thought that he was responsible for Hermione's death… Well, in his place, Ron would have been drinking for months.

"This isn't a good spot to discuss this," Harry's counterpart said. "She'll recover soon, and we don't want to have to obliviate her a second time."

"Oh! Can we visit Grimmauld Place? I heard it was cursed!" Luna said.

"I'd love to compare it to our house back home," Sirius said.

But wizard Harry shook his head. "No. Let's move to the Forest of Dean."

"But…" Hermione closed her mouth and frowned. "Fine. But you bring a tent. I'm not going to stand in the snow."

"Alright."

No one moved or said anything for a few seconds, though. Then Hermione rolled her eyes. "Alright. We'll go first." She reached out towards Ron, and he took her hand.

A moment later, they appeared in a small, snow-covered clearing. There were no tracks on the ground - no human tracks, at least - Ron saw as he looked around.

"This was our main camp for weeks," Hermione told him.

"Ah. A test?" Or a trap?

"Probably," she said. "I'll fetch the others." She disappeared.

Ron looked around the clearing again, this time not looking for enemies and other threats, but trying to imagine Hermione and the two others living here. Hiding, planning, laughing. Perhaps even…

A popping sound announced Luna and Ginny's arrival, staggering a little next to Hermione. Two at a time? He looked at her.

"It's a short enough trip, and I am very familiar with this place," she answered his unspoken question, taking a few deep breaths. Then she vanished again.

"Spread out a bit," Ron told his sister and their friend. This could be a trap, after all.

To his relief, they did so without protesting. Well, Luna wanted to take a look at the frozen pond nearby, but whatever worked.

Dumbledore was next, staggering as well. "I fear I might never grow comfortable with this way of travelling," he said as Hermione disappeared again.

"As far as I know, the wizards don't like it either," Ron told him.

"Perfectly understandable," the old man replied. "Although a little discouraging." He looked around as well. "This is a good spot to hide. Barely visible from the air, fresh water… though I assume that wouldn't be a concern for wizards."

"It's also a good spot for a trap," Ron replied.

"You don't expect an ambush, or you wouldn't be standing here, would you?"

Ron snorted. The old man was, annoyingly, right.

Sirius and Harry arrived before the silence grew awkward, and Ron went to steady Hermione, who looked a little dizzy from all the apparating. "So, this was your main hideout?"

"Yes."

"Looks cosy."

She snorted in response.

Then the other Ron arrived, with the Grangers. He didn't look winded, Ron noticed. "So you know about this spot," his counterpart said.

"Yes. We spent weeks here," Hermione told him. "Satisfied?"

"You could've gotten that from Ellen and Gabriel through Legilimency."

She flinched in return. "I wouldn't… not my parents."

"Hermione would have if it were needed," Ron's counterpart said.

"But it wasn't needed!" she retorted. "I can prove that it's me! You can read my mind! Check my DNA!"

The Grangers were still wavering, Ron saw. Of course, they wanted to believe that their daughter was alive.

"We will," the wizard said. "Harry's bringing his Pensieve."

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "That's a good idea," she added.

The other Ron grinned, though not in a particularly friendly way. "Thanks." He raised his wand, waved it, and the thin covering of snow in the centre of the clearing started to melt.

"We didn't put our tent there," Hermione said, frowning at him. "It was back there, almost under the trees."

The other Ron didn't say anything in response, but Ron saw him clenching his teeth.

And he saw something else. A ring. "Are you married?" Ron blurted out.

"Married?" Hermione said, drawing a sharp breath.

Ron's counterpart grimaced. "Yes," he replied, staring at her. "It's been seven years," he added, though he sounded guilty.

"To whom?" Hermione asked in a strange voice.

Another grimace. "Lavender."

"Oh."

* * *

_Lavender was making eyes at him again. In the middle of the common room. _

_She didn't like it. They couldn't afford such distractions. Not with the Headmaster slowly dying and the Dark Lord gathering his forces. Sooner rather than later, they would have to fight. Would have to track down Voldemort's Horcruxes. And face him at the end. They needed all the preparation they could manage. Any distraction could be fatal._

_And Lavender was a very obvious distraction, she thought as she narrowed her eyes at the witch. She was pretty enough, with long, blonde hair that fell in waves over her shoulders without having to be tamed with charms or potions. But she also knew how to use cosmetics and fashion to her advantage._

_And she had obviously decided to go after Ron. Couldn't the witch accept that it was over? Ron and Lavender had broken up last year! But here she was, again trying to catch his attention. Too tight robes, inappropriate makeup and obviously rehearsed poses that displayed her charms to best effect. _

_They couldn't afford such distractions. They had to focus on the mission. On their plans._

_She stood and walked over to her friends. "Ron? Would you mind helping me with Defence?"_

_He blinked. "You need my help?" He was looking at her, not at Lavender._

"_Yes." She nodded. "I'm still not as good at casting on the move as I need to be. And you're good at it."_

"_Ah, yes…"_

"_Please?" She beamed at him and twisted around her finger a lock of hair that had somehow slipped out of her ponytail. Two could play that game, after all._

"_Uh, sure. Let's go to the Room?" He stood, and she smiled._

_They had no time for distractions like Lavender. That sort of business could wait until they had won the war. And she really did need more training in Defence._


	36. Chapter 36: The Explanations

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 36: The Explanations**

**Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

"Lavender," Hermione said in a rather flat voice.

Ron resisted the urge to take a step closer to her. That wouldn't go over well.

"Yes. It's been seven years since…" Ron's counterpart repeated himself, then pressed his lips together, as if he didn't want to admit that Hermione hadn't died.

"And how long have you been married?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Three years," the other Ron all but spat. "We've got a son and are expecting another child," he added, in an almost defiant tone.

"Ah. Congratulations." Her tone was a little warmer than the air around them.

"Oh! You've got a son? What's his name?" Luna asked.

"Roger."

"That's a nice name," Luna said, nodding. "You never dated my counterpart, did you?"

"What? No." The other Ron shook his head. "You mean… you two dated?" He looked at her, then at Ron.

"Yes. But we broke up years ago. Ultimately, we were too different, what with him being a police officer and me a rebel against the system," Luna told him. "We remained friends, though. And I'm also friends with Hermione!" she added with a bright smile.

"Ah. I see." The other Ron didn't look like he did, in Ron's opinion. But the tension had gone down again.

A popping sound made everyone turn - the other Harry had arrived. With the other Ginny.

Swell. Unless this Ginny was vastly different from his sister, things were likely to get complicated.

"Wow. You were right - they do look like us. But he doesn't have your scar," the other Ginny said.

"My scar's on my chest," Harry told her, a little tersely.

"And no, he's not showing it to you," Ginny added with a glare.

"It doesn't look like much, anyway," Luna said. "Just a bit of puckered skin. If you were curious."

"I didn't want to see it," the other Ginny told her.

"Oh? Why did you mention it, then?" Luna asked. "It's OK to be curious, as long as you're not rude."

"I wasn't curious," Ginny's counterpart said. "Not about his scar, at least," she added.

"Ah." Luna nodded. "I would have been surprised if you weren't curious about us - that would've been very unlike our Ginny."

The other Ginny's expression almost made Ron chuckle - it looked exactly like his sister's when she lost an argument.

"Indeed. It is only natural to be curious about our counterparts," Dumbledore cut in. "However, I think we should first establish our credentials, so to speak - specifically, Dr Granger's identity."

"Dr Granger?" Mrs Granger asked, taking a half-step forward.

"I told you that I had to study quantum physics, didn't I?" Hermione replied. "Without a PhD, I would never have received any funding for my research. It was hard enough as it was," she added with a frown.

"Oh."

"Indeed. It's a most impressive career," Dumbledore said. "However, I believe you mentioned a 'pensieve'? And a magical tent?"

"Yes," Harry's counterpart said. "Let's get this done." He reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out what looked like a yard-wide roll of cloth. Then he glanced at the spot the other Ron had cleared of snow.

"We didn't have our tent there," Hermione told him. "It was back there, at the tree line." She pointed at the other side of the clearing.

The other Harry glanced at Ron's counterpart, who nodded - though he looked like he was reluctant to do so.

"We're not at war any more," the other Harry said, throwing the roll at the cleared spot.

The roll hit the ground, then unfolded - somehow - into an old-fashioned tent that looked large enough for three or four people. But, as Ron expected, once the entrance flap was pulled back - following a flick of the other Harry's wand - one could see an entrance hall inside fit for a manor.

"That's not our tent," Hermione said.

"It's one of Sirius's," Harry's counterpart told her.

"Ah." That seemed to satisfy Hermione.

They stepped inside. Ron didn't gawk - he checked the room for possible threats.

Luna, of course, had less restraint. "Oh! How nice! It's like in 'Gone with the Wind', isn't it, Ginny?"

"A bit smaller, I think," Ginny replied.

"Yes."

"'Gone with the wind'?" the other Ginny asked.

"A muggle movie," Hermione told her. "Famous, though it is quite racist."

"Ah."

"Let's set up in the living room," the other Harry said. "There's enough room for everyone."

The living room also looked like it had come from the set of a period drama. And while Ron wasn't an expert on magic, the room didn't look like it had been used recently - or regularly.

That meant it was probably expendable.

But Harry the wizard was already pulling out a small stone basin. He put it on the ground, tapped it with his wand and then it wasn't so small any more - it grew into a good-sized fountain. One covered with inlaid runes.

The Pensieve.

"Which memories do you want to see?" Hermione asked.

"The moment we arrived in the clearing for the first time," Ron's counterpart said.

Hermione hesitated a moment, Ron noticed, then nodded very curtly and pointed her wand at her temple. After a quick circling motion with its tip, a shimmering band grew out of her head, wrapping around the tip of the wand.

Ron shuddered against his will, though Hermione deftly sent the whole string flying into the Pensieve.

"There." She raised her chin.

The two wizards looked at her, frowning.

Ron watched as light mist appeared inside the Pensieve, rising slightly until it formed a thin cloud above it. "That's your memory?"

"Yes," she replied, still staring at the other Harry and Ron.

The two wizards exchanged a glance. "You're better at remembering details," Ron's counterpart said.

The other Harry nodded, but he seemed a little… wary? Doubtful?

"Oh, for…" Hermione shook her head. She was clenching her teeth, Ron noticed. "Go in, watch it, then use Ron's memory to check for differences! Honestly!"

That caused the other Ginny to snort, and both wizards to frown. The other Harry narrowed his eyes, but then stuck his head into the mist.

"Aren't memories subjective?" Ron asked in a low voice.

"Yes, but a Pensieve accesses subconscious memories that are generally more detailed than what you can consciously remember off-hand," she explained. "That's one theory, at least."

"And what's the other?"

"There was a theory that a Pensieve actually uses Divination to directly check the past. But observations of the reconstruction of a memory in a Pensieve have failed to detect any Divination charms, and it was disproved when people showed altered memories in a Pensieve. And yet, it remains a popular theory - some people prefer to believe that there are 'superior Pensieves' which offer glimpses into the actual past." She shook her head. "I think it was merely a lie put about by a wizard trying to keep the exact method of crafting a Pensieve secret."

That made sense - people protected trade secrets, after all. "Or it was a marketing ploy," he said.

She chuckled in response. "Perhaps. In any case, a Pensieve has been proven to offer a very clear picture of your memories. Clearer than you could create artificially, especially if you have another memory to check for differences."

Which meant it should be proof enough to convince her wizard friends that she was the real Hermione. Should be - her friends were proving to be rather stubborn about the whole thing. More than Ron and Harry had been, certainly.

In fact, Ron's counterpart was staring at them with a peculiar expression, Ron noticed.

"Are you together?" the wizard asked suddenly. "You and… him?"

Hermione glared, Ron saw. "Yes, we are," she all but growled. "What of it?"

The other Ron looked taken aback, but quickly narrowed his eyes. "Why did you react that way to me marrying Lavender, then?"

"'React that way'?" Hermione retorted. "I was merely surprised that you chose her, _Won-Won_."

The wizard actually flinched. "She's not like that!"

"Not any more," Ginny's counterpart added with a sly expression.

"'Won-Won'?" Ron asked, looking at Hermione.

"Her nickname for Ron in our fifth year. When they were together," she explained.

"Ah." What kind of girl would turn a good name like 'Ron' into 'Won-Won'? And why did Hermione care, anyway? Well, he had a theory about that, but he didn't want to pursue the thought.

"We're not teenagers any more, Hermione," Ron's counterpart replied.

"I think it's a cute nickname," Luna said.

Ginny, though, snorted and shook her head. At least Harry didn't react - not visibly. And Dumbledore's smile hadn't changed.

"Yes, we're not teenagers any more," Hermione said. "You're not playing Quidditch, either."

The other Ron looked puzzled. "What do you mean? Of course I'm still playing Quidditch."

"I didn't mean as a hobby," she clarified.

"Oh. Did you think I would play professionally? After the war?" The wizard snorted. "There was far too much to do afterwards to abandon everything for Quidditch."

"Hey!" Ginny's counterpart rounded on him. "Do you think that there's something wrong with playing Quidditch professionally?"

Ron shook his head. His counterpart had just put his foot in it.

"You're a professional sportswoman? Or would that be sportswitch?" Luna asked, perking up. "Our Ginny's a tennis star!"

"Tennis?" The other Ginny asked.

"A muggle sport," Hermione told her. "A very popular one - Ginny's world-famous. More than Harry here."

"And I have more money," Ginny added.

Sirius scoffed at that, though not quite seriously, Ron knew. "Only as long as I'm alive."

Both the other Ginny and Ron flinched at that.

The Grangers, though, looked surprised. "You're a professional tennis player?"

"Top ten," Ginny said, smiling - she had never been very modest about her success.

"One day she'll win a major," Ron added, which caused her to scowl at him. But she couldn't say anything - he was praising her, after all. Technically.

"One of the four most important tennis tournaments," Hermione told the wizards present.

"Most money is in advertising, anyway," Ginny said.

Ron was about to tweak her nose a little more - it was better than watching Hermione be jealous of the other Ron's wife - but before he could say something, Harry's counterpart pulled his head out of the mist.

"Mate?"

"I'll need your memory, Ron," the other Harry said, staring at Hermione.

"Right away, mate."

Hermione huffed as the other Harry stuck his head back into the mist after exchanging the memories in the Pensieve. No one else seemed to react. Ron's counterpart exchanged a glance with the other Ginny, but, unless they could communicate telepathically, they didn't actually exchange any words. Of course, as siblings, they could add a lot of meaning to a glance.

"So…" Ron looked at Hermione. "Does the Pensieve work for anyone?" If it did, it could revolutionise criminal investigations. Testimony you could actually watch...

"You mean does it work for muggles?" Hermione replied, tilting her head. "It should - unless someone added charms to prevent muggles from using it. That's just watching, though. To get their memory into the Pensieve, a muggle would have to depend on a wizard to retrieve it, and that can be tricky. You'd have to be a Master Legilimens to have a chance of finding the right memory in someone else's head, and those are rare."

That would make sharing memories awkward, at the very least. Probably impossible. Well, it wasn't as if Ron was going to continue working as a police officer anyway. But… "Why would anyone charm the Pensieve to not work for muggles?"

"To keep muggles from accidentally discovering magic," she explained.

"Wouldn't someone have to put a memory in it and leave for that to happen?"

"Or someone sees you using it, thinks you're inhaling some new drug and sticks their head inside it."

"Ah." That was more plausible. Still… "That would mean that they'd left a Pensieve unguarded, though."

"Such things have happened, and continue to happen," the other Ron cut in. "Some wizards are just negligent."

"Or stupid," Hermione added. "Or they don't consider muggles at all."

"And then the muggles get obliviated?" Ron asked.

"Unless they're related to a wizard," she said. With a glare at the other Ron, she added: "And the Statute of Secrecy doesn't apply to other worlds."

"I'm not sure if the Wizengamot or the ICW would agree," Ron's counterpart told her.

"It would be hard to argue that my friends aren't related to wizards, seeing as their DNA matches yours," she pointed out.

"That's never stopped the Ministry, now has it?" the wizard replied with a grin.

"No, it didn't," she agreed. Both of them chuckled at that.

Ron refrained from scowling. He was better than that. He wasn't so insecure and jealous as to take offence at her laughing with an old friend. Even if said old friend was not only her ex-lover but also Ron's counterpart who could use magic.

"Wiping our memories wouldn't be a good idea, anyway," he said. "Some of us have taken precautions against such an event." Well, Dumbledore had, in any case.

The other Ron frowned. "What kind of precautions?"

"Now that would be telling," Ron retorted with the best grin he could muster.

"Let's just say that erasing our knowledge of magic would be rather counterproductive," he heard Dumbledore say behind him.

The wizard Ron blinked, then sighed. "That's going to be a mess."

"Isn't your Harry the chief of the police?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean we make the laws. Well, not all of them," the wizard replied.

"Even as a wizard, you are beholden to the corrupt government," Luna said, shaking her head. "What a pity!"

"What?"

"The needed revolution will never happen if good people do nothing but mindlessly defend the status quo," Luna explained. "The corrupt regime will never be toppled if everyone kneels to them!"

"Hey! We did storm the Ministry," the other Ron defended himself. "We got rid of all the bigots, too. But Harry and I… well, we're not politicians. We hunt dark wizards and other criminals and leave the politics to others."

'Got rid of all the bigots'? Ron raised his eyebrows at the wording.

"'Others'?" Hermione asked.

"Dad. Shacklebolt. Doge." The wizard Ron shrugged.

"Percy," Ginny's counterpart added.

"Doge? Elphias Doge?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes…?"

"So he survived in this world." The old man smiled, a little ruefully. "He died in the war in my world. He joined the RAF and was shot down in the Battle of Britain."

"Oh." The other Ron nodded. "That war."

Before anyone could say anything else, Harry's counterpart pulled his head out of the mist. "I need a second opinion," he said, looking at Ron.

"Oh for…!" Hermione muttered under her breath. Ron squeezed her hand.

They switched the memories again, and Ron's counterpart stuck his head into the mist.

"Honestly, is it so hard to believe that I'm telling the truth?"

"Yes," the other Harry said, rather flatly.

"Why? Do you think I couldn't have created a portal to another world?" Hermione asked, huffing.

"No. But we took a long time to, well, accept that you were gone."

"Oh."

"See? I told you: They defend the status quo no matter what!"

"What?" Harry's counterpart turned to look at Luna.

"I don't think that that's the case here," Harry told her.

"Well, I think it's at least part of the reason for all of this!" Luna retorted. "You need to face reality, Harry - what do we call you, anyway? 'Other Harry' sounds rude, and 'Harry Two' wouldn't be correct."

"...Just call me Harry," the other Harry said.

"But we have two of you," Luna insisted. "And both of you are with a Ginny… oh, you didn't take her name, did you?"

"No, I took his," the other Ginny said.

"Fiddlesticks."

Then the other Ron pulled back out of the mist and stared at Hermione with a lost expression. "Bloody hell!" He shook his head. "It's… You're Hermione. Our Hermione."

"Finally!" Hermione said with a frown, her hands on her hips. "It took you long enough to admit it, you stubborn idiots!"

For a moment, neither she nor the other Harry and Ron moved. Then she opened her arms and took a step towards them.

They all but tackled her as the stand-off turned into a group hug. Hermione was sobbing, Ron noticed, as all three started to babble. Ron only caught a few of everyone's words.

"...thought you were dead…"

"...seven years…"

"...had to invent a way to travel…"

"...you're really back…"

"...only ashes left…"

"...Crabbe and Goyle…"

"...thought you…"

"...I would never…"

"...destroy the diadem…"

Then he noticed the Grangers approaching the three friends. Hesitantly.

"Hermione?" Mrs Granger called. "Hermione?"

"Oh!" Hermione pulled away from the two men. "Mum! Dad! I'm so sorry! I had to convince them first."

Another group hug followed, with more tears and sobbing. Ron took a step back, giving them some privacy. No one liked to be seen when they were crying.

And he didn't feel as left out if he was with the others in their group.

* * *

"...and then I threw the bag with the diadem into the fire and jumped into the Vanishing Cabinet. It finally worked - but I was sent to another world," Hermione said ten minutes later. "I didn't have a wand, so I couldn't do any magic, and I was exhausted. I reached a house, and they called the police - I was covered in bruises from the fighting. And once the police arrived, I found out that 'Hermione Granger' had vanished seven years ago, presumably kidnapped. My DNA matched hers, so everyone thought I had escaped from a kidnapper after seven years."

"Yes," Ron said. "Her appearance made international headlines back then."

Hermione nodded. "I found out how bad being famous for surviving a crime was," she told the other Harry. "The press hounded me, as did the police - I had claimed amnesia so I didn't have to explain where I had been or who had kidnapped me. They didn't like that."

"The police never like it if you don't 'cooperate'," Luna commented.

"Some of the tabloids claimed she was protecting her kidnapper," Harry said.

"Bloody vultures," Ron added with a sneer.

"They even tried to sneak on to my estate to get pictures of Harry not a month after James and Lily's murder!" Sirius snarled.

Ginny nodded emphatically. "Oh, yes. They still hound us whenever we go out in public without disguises."

"They hound you," Harry told her.

"A typical reaction of the establishment - they have the press discredit anyone who doesn't bow to their demands!" Luna said. "They've done that to Daddy many times! And they use celebrities to distract the masses so they won't band together and tear down the corrupt system! That's why they published those topless pictures of you!"

"Luna!" Ginny hissed.

"What? They did!"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Anyway, I quickly realised that without a wand, and no way to make one even if I knew how, I had to resort to rituals to find a way back. And for that, I had to study physics."

"And then you caught up on your education and earned a PhD in quantum physics?" Mr Granger asked.

"Yes."

"My little girl is a doctor!" Hermione's mum exclaimed and hugged her. Well, hugged her harder - she hadn't really let go of Hermione since their first hug.

"If she found out how to travel through time, she could be _the _Doctor," Luna said. "All she needs is a telephone booth - she can use a wand in place of a sonic screwdriver."

The confused glances their counterparts exchanged made it clear that they had never heard of Doctor Who. And this wasn't the time to explain the finer points of the BBC's best series. Not that Luna wouldn't try if given the chance. So Ron chuckled but changed the subject again. "We didn't meet Hermione until a few months ago - we had information that a small number of criminals were interested in Dr Granger…"

* * *

"...and then we came to see my parents. You know the rest." Hermione finished.

"Yes. This morning, Parkinson and Travers asked about you - if you were alright. Well, they didn't know it was you, but that's how we found out that someone was impersonating us," the other Harry said.

"And why did you decide to visit my parents?" Hermione asked. "We were disguised."

"Your reaction to your statue," Ron's counterpart explained. "I told Harry that we should check up on Gabriel and Ellen, in case someone was trying to scam them using our appearances."

"A good deduction," Dumbledore commented. "Considering the intel you had to base it on, of course."

"Ah." Hermione nodded, then frowned. "And who had the idea to put up a statue of me? In the train station at Hogsmeade?"

"Err… you don't like it?" The other Harry looked honestly baffled.

"I told you we should have insisted on Hogwarts," Ron's counterpart muttered. "Probably in the library."

"It was a compromise. _We_ thought that there, every student would see it every time they went to Hogwarts," Harry's counterpart explained.

"We thought you were dead and wanted to honour your memory," the other Ron told her. "McGonagall said there hadn't been any statues put up in Hogwarts since the fourteenth century since, otherwise, every Minister and headmaster would want one, and that would be a mess. But there's a portrait of you in the school!" he added with a bright smile.

Hermione blinked. "A portrait?"

She didn't sound happy about that, either.

Harry's counterpart nodded. "We hung it in the Gryffindor common room, but it usually wanders through all the other portraits."

"Helping with homework, guiding lost first years, patrolling the halls…" the other Ron added.

"That sounds nice," Luna said. "A literally smart portrait."

"I see." Hermione still didn't sound very happy about it. Ron would have to ask her about the reason for that. "Well, a statue and a portrait. I guess that was to be expected," she went on.

"There's also the manor," Harry's counterpart told her.

"The _manor_?"

"Well, it was like this…"

* * *

"You turned Parkinson Manor into an orphanage and renamed it 'Granger Memorial Manor'?" Hermione sounded almost shocked.

"Well, it was Shacklebolt's idea." The other Ron shrugged. "But Harry was all for it, and it's a nice idea."

"I didn't want an orphanage named after me," the wizard Harry - or was that the wizarding Harry? - explained. "Sorry," he added with a grin.

She shook her head. "I understand. It's just… I'm surprised how much Wizarding Britain has changed."

"Not as much as the country will be surprised by your return," Ron's counterpart said with a grin.

"About that…" Hermione bit her lower lip. "We can't tell them the truth. Not right now, at least."

"What?"

"Think about it. I created a portal to another world. A world without magic, but where magic works. There's no ICW there to protect muggles from dark wizards. Or from unscrupulous and greedy wizards."

"It's not as if the ICW did anything for us when Voldemort was running the country," the other Ron muttered.

"I see your point," wizard Harry said. "And if you can open a portal to this world, you can open portals to other worlds, too, can't you?"

"In theory, yes," Hermione admitted. "The ICW will want to control the portal."

"Everyone will want to control the portal," wizard Ron added.

"I dare say that they would encounter some difficulties - at least on our side," Dumbledore interjected. "But if our own experiences are any indication, Dr Granger will become the target of every wizard or wizarding government with ambitions."

Ron clenched his teeth. To fight Russian wizards… Couldn't they have some peace, at last?

"Yes. No one can know about the portal," Hermione said.

"But you'll need an excuse for suddenly returning after seven years," Harry's counterpart pointed out. "We can't tell people that you took a vacation or went studying."

"Well, we could, but it wouldn't go over well," the other Ron said.

"Yes," his friend agreed. "Shacklebolt used your name for a lot of reforms. All things you would have approved, trust me."

"Ah. Politics," Sirius commented with a sneer.

"Dead heroes - or heroines, in this case - suddenly turning up alive have a tendency to upset the status quo," Dumbledore remarked.

"Which isn't a bad thing," Luna interjected. "People deserve the truth."

"But not everyone deserves to know every one of your secrets. And this is too dangerous to let every goon with a wand know about it," Hermione told her.

"I want to live without having to fear thugs trying to kidnap me or my family," Ginny added.

Luna pouted. "The longer you keep a secret, the more it hurts once it comes out."

"That depends on how long the secret is kept, my dear," Dumbledore said. "I concur with keeping the portal a secret. But Mr Potter is correct - you'll need an explanation for your absence."

"A good one," Ron's counterpart added. "We searched for you for a long time."

"The Vanishing Cabinet malfunctioning explains my survival - and is the truth," Hermione added with a look at Luna. "We just need to avoid mentioning the other world. I could've been in a coma in a muggle clinic."

"Or you could've lost your memory," Ginny added.

"But that wouldn't explain us," Luna said. "I want to see the magical world! And my counterpart!" She sounded almost desperate.

"It's only temporary," Hermione told her. "And you can wear disguises in the magical world."

"And you can see Luna - our Luna. She's our friend," Ron's counterpart added. "And our family."

That mollified Luna. Ron glanced at Dumbledore; that was a lot of people who would be in on their secret. But the old man didn't protest. Did he plan to use Hermione's wizard friends to defend the portal on his side?

"Pretending to have lost my memory and my wand would probably be best," Hermione said. "I can introduce you as new friends I made, and, since I'm such a prominent witch," she added with a glance at her wizard friends, "it makes sense that I'd keep their identity secret to avoid old enemies harming them."

It wasn't much of a cover story, in Ron's opinion. But then, magic could remove memories, so it probably didn't sound like a movie plot to wizards and witches. If they even had movies.

"Alright, that's settled. So… shall we go to The Burrow? Or Grimmauld Place?" Ron's counterpart asked.

"Both?" Luna suggested with a beaming smile.

Ron saw Hermione glance at her parents. Ah. "What about your home?" he said.

"Would that be as safe from magical intruders as the aforementioned locations?" Dumbledore asked with seemingly idle curiosity.

Hermione sighed and looked at her wizard friends. "The office wasn't protected in any way."

"Putting up wards would have messed with all their electronic devices," Harry the wizard said.

"Like the telly," Ron's counterpart added. "It's a shame we can't have one at home. Dad's been trying for years to get it working but hasn't had any success. Not yet."

"And we cannot live without modern media. We had bodyguards for years because we couldn't have wards," Mr Granger told Hermione. "In the time after, well... " He shrugged. "After the war."

Ron suspected that the guards hadn't just looked out for intruders, but also had kept an eye on the Grangers in case they couldn't handle the loss of their daughter.

"But if it was safe a few years ago…" Mrs Granger started to say. "No?"

Ron the wizard scoffed. "I bet those two rookies already spread the news about our doubles. It won't take long to connect that to the Grangers."

"Really?" Hermione looked doubtful.

Ron's counterpart grinned ruefully. "We kind of told them we'd check on Gabriel and Ellen before we left. Just in case there was trouble, and we needed reinforcements. By now, it has probably reached the Daily Prophet."

"Ah." Hermione pressed her lips together. "I would rather not have my face plastered all over one of Skeeter's articles."

"Oh, she's in Azkaban," Ron's counterpart said, his grin growing wider. "You don't have to worry about her."

"What?" Hermione looked surprised. "What did she do? I don't remember her joining Voldemort."

"She wrote several articles exposing muggleborns and exaggerated the supposed dangers from them and muggles, remember?" Wizarding Harry looked at her expectantly, or that was Ron's impression, anyway.

"Yes, but…"

"That helped Voldemort's goals," the other Ron said. "She was lucky she didn't get executed - Shacklebolt mentioned there was a famous muggle case about that."

"A famous muggle case?" Hermione blinked. "But…"

"Oh! Julius Streicher, the Nazi newspaper publisher," Luna interjected, nodding. "He wrote so many anti-Semitic news articles, he was found guilty of crimes against humanity and executed at Nuremberg."

"From what I remember, Rita Skeeter wasn't really as bad as Streicher," Hermione said.

"Well, as Shacklebolt said, Wizarding Britain is much smaller than the muggle countries, population-wise, so it evened out." Ron's counterpart shrugged. "Anyway, she wasn't executed but sentenced to Azkaban."

"That's the wizard prison with the evil soul-sucking ghosts, isn't it?" Luna asked.

"Dementors," Hermione replied. "But…" She looked at the wizards. "Are they still around?"

"Yes," wizarding Harry admitted, wincing a little. "We didn't have the manpower to replace them right after the war."

"But we moved all the prisoners out and only sent Death Eater sympathisers and other dark wizards there," the other Ron added. "So… it worked out."

"And unlike Sirius - my Sirius - everyone got a fair trial," Harry's counterpart said.

"So… Grimmauld Place first, then the Burrow?" Ron's counterpart asked.

"But…" Hermione trailed off and sighed. "The Burrow second, I guess. Grimmauld Place offers more privacy," she added with a glance at her parents.

Ah. Ron nodded. That made sense.

"So, that's the home of the magical Weasleys, right?" Luna asked. "And it's at the same place as your home, Ginny!"

"Probably," Hermione corrected them. "At least it's in the same village, but since I've never visited Ron's place in your world, I couldn't say with any certainty whether the locations are identical."

"Well, we'll find out!" Luna bounced on her feet.

"Better, ah, disguise yourself, first," the other Ron told her. "Don't want to shock Mum."

Ginny's counterpart grinned. "She'd probably have an accidental magic incident!"

"Which can have serious consequences," Hermione said, frowning. "It's not a joking matter."

"Ah, we handle our kids all the time," the other Ginny retorted.

"You've got kids?" Ginny said, blinking. "But you're a professional athlete, aren't you? Did you take a break?"

"A break?" Her counterpart seemed confused. "Well, for the last few months, but we timed that so the kids were born post-season."

"How many kids do you have?" Ginny asked.

"Two. James and Jean," her counterpart replied. "Twins."

"Oh. 'Jean'?" Hermione looked surprised again. That was her middle name, Ron knew.

"We didn't want to name her Hermione," the other Harry explained. "That would've been too much pressure. It's bad enough being our child."

"Oh." Hermione nodded. "That sounds sensible."

"Yes. And there are enough Hermiones around already," Ron's counterpart added. "It's a popular name in Britain."

"Really." Hermione glanced at her parents, Ron noticed.

"I told you that it would be a popular name one day, remember?" Mrs Granger told her with a smile. "As soon as people realised it."

"Hm?" Ron hadn't heard about that.

"When I was five, and other children teased me about my 'weird name'," Hermione told him.

"Ah."

"Although I doubt that you had this in mind," she added, turning back to her parents with a rather watery smile.

More hugging followed, but, watching the Grangers, Ron didn't feel as awkward as before.

* * *

**No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

They arrived with the by now familiar yet still unpleasant feeling of Apparition. The ancestral home of the Black family in this world - and, apparently, now the home of Ginny and Harry's counterparts - didn't look like Ron had expected. It didn't look very magical. No floating stairs, no glowing lights, no walking furniture. Hell, it didn't even look as ancient as Sirius's home. Bright and modern, more IKEA than Victorian, if Ron was honest. With the exception of the oversized fireplace.

"My mother would have a stroke if she saw this," Sirius commented next to Ron. "It's much too bright and cheery for her."

"Oh, we know," Ginny's counterpart said, sighing while the other Harry and Ron, as well as Hermione, vanished again to fetch the others. "She complained endlessly when we started to renovate the building."

Sirius blinked. "I was under the impression that she had died here as well."

"She has. Her portrait, though, has endured. We finally had to silence the entire frame and wall it in, or James's first word would have been a slur."

"Wow. My mother would have rather died than curse like a sailor. Completely unsuitable behaviour for a refined member of the aristocracy, you know." Sirius shook his head.

With a pop, the Grangers and Dumbledore arrived.

"Sirius! Does this give you ideas?" Harry asked while the others recovered.

"IKEA? In our home?" Sirius shook his head. "I have an image to uphold, Harry. And English Heritage would probably send me to prison if I changed too much in our home."

Ron doubted that. English Heritage weren't quite as bad, nor had quite as much power, as Sirius liked to claim. But as long as Harry's godfather wanted to use them as an excuse for keeping his home as it had been while he was growing up...

Another popping noise announced Luna and Ginny's arrival. "Oh!" Luna gasped. "It looks…" Ron saw her face fall. "...boring. Completely boring!" She pouted as she looked around. "It doesn't look magical at all!"

"I'll have you know that all our friends told us that it looks exotic," Ginny's counterpart replied, in a slightly sharp tone.

"Really?" Hermione looked surprised. "It looks very… muggle."

"Exactly," Harry's counterpart said with a very familiar grin.

"Oh, you!" She shook her head, then looked at her parents. "I guess you helped?"

"A little," her mother said.

"Figures." She perked up. "Oh! Did you reorganise the library? It would be so much more useful with a proper index and cataloguing system!"

"Err…" The other Harry's grin vanished. "We didn't really do much with it."

"Other than ensuring that it was safe for children," Ginny's counterpart added.

"Oh."

"You can do that, once you're settled in," Harry the wizard told her with a smile.

"Mate! We'll never get her out of the library again!" the other Ron complained - but he was smiling.

Hermione was smiling as well, Ron noticed. "That won't be for a while," she told them. "We have to set up a portal site in this world, so we're not cut off. And we need to find a skilled, discreet Healer."

"What?" Both wizards were suddenly alert. "Are you hurt? A lingering curse from the last battle?" Harry's counterpart asked.

"Or some muggle sickness they can't fix themselves?" Ron's counterpart blurted out.

"Are you pregnant?" Ginny the witch asked.

"No, I… What?" Hermione stared at the witch. "No, I'm not pregnant," she said with conviction. "It's for Mr Dumbledore and his friend," she explained.

"Oh. Are you sick?" the other Ron asked.

"My ailments mostly stem from my advanced age," Dumbledore replied. "Something I was told magic can deal with, up to a point."

"You want to be immortal?" Wizarding Harry looked… well, as if he had finally realised that the old spymaster wasn't the Headmaster he had known. In Ron's opinion, at least. And he was glancing at Hermione.

"No," Hermione said with a frown, "But magic can repair a lot of the damage that comes from old age. That's why we need a good, discreet Healer. They'll be paid handsomely in gold."

"Indeed. Money is of no concern - Gellert and I are quite well-off."

"Gellert?" Now all their counterparts were frowning.

"Grindelwald's counterpart," Hermione said, rolling her eyes a little, "who, I'll have you know, didn't lead armies in conquest of half of Europe."

"Ah." Wizarding Harry nodded. "We'll need a very discreet Healer then."

"Oh, yes," Ron's counterpart agreed. "Or there'll be hell to pay."

"So I was given to understand," Dumbledore said with his usual friendly smile.

"So… when do we go to The Burrow?" Luna asked.

"Well, we were planning to have the rest of the family come here. We need to tell Mum and Dad, first. Give them some time to prepare, too. Mum will want to cook for you all," the other Ron said. "And I need to get Lavender - if I don't tell her right away, she'll never forgive me."

"Alright," the other Harry said. "Let me show you the guest rooms you can use in the meantime. They're on the…" He trailed off. "James?"

Ron looked up. Yes, there was a little boy looking at them from the top of the stairs. And a little girl behind him.

"James! Jean!" Ginny's counterpart yelled. "Did you climb out of bed again?"

"Should've stuck them inside," Ron heard his counterpart mumble.

Another voice sounded from behind the toddler. "Little James! Little Jean! Oh, Dobby's so sorry! So sorry!"

Then a small alien creature appeared next to the children. "Dobby will get them back to bed, don't worry…" The creature's eyes widened almost comically. "Mistress Hermione? You got out of the portrait?"

What? Ron turned to look at Hermione and realised that she was having another flashback.

* * *

"_This is an outrage!" she yelled as she dropped a thick tome on the table in the common room. "I looked it up! Elves have almost no rights!" She shook her head and looked at her friends. Who seemed to be far more confused than they should be, after her explanation._

"_What?" Harry asked._

"_Obliviating Dobby was legal!" she told him. "If an elf leaves your employment, you can obliviate them! And the same goes if you fire him!" This was scandalous!_

"_Yes?" Ron still didn't seem to get it. "That's so they can't betray the secrets of the old employer."_

"_But that's... " She shook her head. "That's their life! They lose their memories when they leave an employer! What if they married during that time? That's… almost as evil as slavery!"_

"_So that's why Dobby didn't recognise me when I saw him here," Harry said._

"_Yes." Hermione nodded. "His employer must have obliviated him. And if he'd been working there for longer than twelve years, he wouldn't have even known that you existed since he would have forgotten everything from since before you were born!"_

"_Wow, that's…"_

"_...evil, yes, I told you already!" Hermione finished for Ron. "Dobby's former employer must be the one behind the attacks. And Dobby still tried to warn you, Harry. He must have known the danger - he risked his memories for you!" She sat down. "We need to do something about this!"_

"_About the attacks? We've been trying for weeks!" Ron said._

"_No, not that. We do need to solve those, of course. But we need to do something about the elves, too!" She pulled out her notes. "We'll start an organisation. A movement. A Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare. Like the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. I've transfigured a pin, too."_

_She pulled out her prototype._

_Harry and Ron didn't look very enthusiastic, though. Harry even frowned. "Spew? You named it 'spew'?"_

_Oh. Oh, no!_


	37. Chapter 37: The Other Weasleys

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 37: The Other Weasleys**

**No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

"Dobby? You work for Harry?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yes, Mistress Hermione," the creature replied.

"I hired him when we moved in here," Harry the wizard explained with a shrug.

"And Dobby is very grateful for the honour to be working for the great Harry Potter and his family!"

"Did you get your memories back?" Hermione asked in a hopeful voice.

The creature's ears drooped. "Dobby is sorry; Dobby did not. But other elves told Dobby all about Harry Potter!"

"Oh." Hermione's smile vanished.

Ron blinked. Elves? Elves weren't supposed to look like that! Dobby looked like a goblin or something, not like an elf.

"Dobby is sorry, Mistress Hermione. But didn't Mistress know that already?"

"She's the real Hermione," Ron's counterpart said. "Not the portrait."

"Dad? Mum? Mum? Dad?" James looked confused, Ron noted, the boy's head moving left and right as he looked down at them.

"Two Mums and Dads!" Jean exclaimed, pointing at them.

"We're not your Mum and Dad," Ginny said.

"But you look like!" James protested.

Ron frowned - they should have disguised themselves before travelling. Sloppy.

"They're your parents' counterparts from another dimension. That's why they look like them," Luna told them.

The confused expressions of the two toddlers made it clear that the explanation had gone way over their heads. Which was a good thing since they were trying to keep the dimensional travel a secret.

Ginny's counterpart, meanwhile, had drawn her wand. "James! Jean! You have to go back to bed. It's nap time."

"Don't wanna!" James protested. "Not sleepy!"

"Mum! Can I stay?" Jean asked - and she was looking at Ron's sister with a hopeful smile.

Ron chuckled. That girl would be a handful.

"I'm not your mum," Ginny said.

"I'm your mum," her counterpart said in a firm tone. "And I'm sending you to bed now!"

"Dobby is sorry."

"It's not your fault, Dobby," Harry's counterpart said. "We should've spelled the door."

"I _did_," Ginny the witch told him. "They must have used accidental magic."

"Tunnels!" James said, beaming at them.

"Or the house-elf passageways," she added with a sigh.

"Dobby is sorry."

"Mum! No!"

"Please, Mum! I sleep later!"

"You didn't make the twins their godfathers, did you?" Ron asked while Dobby picked up Jean and Ginny's counterpart stopped James, who was trying to make a break for it. Ron glanced at Harry's counterpart when the wizard didn't answer right away and blinked. He knew that expression. "You did."

Harry the wizard shrugged in a familiar way. Ron's counterpart chuckled. "They thought I'd be an honorary uncle anyway, so there was no need to make me a godfather."

"Honestly!" Hermione said, shaking her head. But she was smiling as well.

"So, let's move to the living room," Harry the wizard said. "Ginny'll join us in a minute." He opened the door in the back and waved them forward.

It looked like the interior layout wasn't any different from Sirius and Harry's home, either, Ron noted as they followed the wizard.

"They're so cute!" he heard Luna say behind him. "Do you think your kids will look like them?"

"Ah…" It seemed Ginny was at a loss for words.

"That is very unlikely." Hermione, of course, wasn't. "They would be born years later than their counterparts."

"My counterpart was decades older than I am," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Which is an anomaly," Hermione replied. "Although it does require further research. If there are more counterparts with an age difference, especially if born after my arrival in your world, then that would throw an entirely new light on fundamental assumptions about the laws of the universe. And on Divination."

"One problem at a time," Ron's counterpart said. "You can always do research later."

"Very often, research is necessary to solve a problem," Hermione retorted, a little sharply in Ron's opinion.

"Research into politics in this case," Harry the wizard cut in as he opened the door to the living room. Which was sporting more modern furniture, although no telly or anything more advanced than an old-fashioned radio, Ron noted. "Let me duplicate the couch," the wizard added.

A moment later, two more couches appeared, and the room had grown accordingly. Ron glanced at Hermione; she seemed to be impressed at the display, but she didn't comment as she took a seat on the original couch. He joined her.

"Drinks anyone?" Wizarding Harry asked. "You're invited to lunch, of course, but it's a little early."

"And Mum will cook a feast for dinner, once she hears about your return," Ron's counterpart said. He checked the time on an old-fashioned pocket watch, Ron noted. "I'll need to tell her and Dad, of course. And Lavender. Lavender first - Dad won't be home for lunch yet."

"Will she be able to keep the secret?" Hermione asked. "I'd rather not have half our year showing up."

"She's not a teenager any more," Ron the wizard replied, frowning.

Hermione pressed her lips together but didn't retort. Instead, she looked at Harry's counterpart.

"I thought Dobby was happy at Hogwarts."

"He was. But, you know, working for a famous family is seen as more prestigious among elves," the wizard replied. "And, well, he's earned it, hasn't he?"

"Of course." Hermione didn't look as if she was satisfied, though.

"Oh, Hermione, lighten up," Ron's counterpart blurted out. "People aren't allowed to obliviate elves any more."

She looked almost shocked. "You changed the law?"

"We did," he told her. "Telling people that Voldemort might not have returned if we had been able to prove that Malfoy was behind the Basilisk attacks pretty much sold that law, Dad said."

"Ah." She slowly nodded.

"Politics," Harry's counterpart said with a slight sneer.

"You don't agree?" Hermione asked, sounding surprised.

Before the wizard could answer, Ginny's counterpart returned. "They're back in their beds, and the entrance to the house-elf passages is now spelled shut." She sat down next to Harry's counterpart and sighed. "I'm blaming you for that."

"What?"

"Well, they didn't get that from me; I was never such an unruly child," she explained.

Ron chuckled; that sounded exactly like his sister - who wasn't amused, as he found out when he glanced at her.

The other Ron snorted. "You were the worst. Well, except for the twins. And I think Bill was a handful as well."

"So I've heard," Ron said, then blinked. "I mean, my Bill."

"Blimey, that'll take some getting used to." His counterpart shook his head. "The idea that there's a muggle copy of me somewhere out there…"

"I'm not your copy," Ron retorted with a frown.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "You're more like dimensional twins. The parallels are surprising, but all of us were created naturally - none of us were copied. As far as we know, at any rate."

That would have sounded better, in Ron's opinion, without that last addition.

"We're like Fred and George?" The other Ron chuckled again, but Ron could tell it was forced.

"You're not the only one who thinks this is weird," he told him. "We look the same, but we're very different." He hadn't fought in a magical civil war. He wasn't a wizard. And he wouldn't have married a woman who called him 'Won-Won'. He didn't think that the Lavender of his world had been as… weird.

"Not so different," Hermione said. "You both work as police officers. Or did," she added with a wince.

"You don't any more?" Harry's counterpart asked.

"We're currently suspended and planning to quit the force," Harry told him.

"What did you do?" Ron's counterpart raised his eyebrows. So did the Grangers, Ron noticed.

"They didn't like how we protected Hermione," Ron told him. He almost added: 'And we aren't war heroes with the ear of the head of government to protect us.' But that would have sounded like whining. Instead, he added: "We're planning to become private investigators."

"Like in the stories?" Ginny the witch said.

"Can you make a living doing that?" Mrs Granger asked.

"Private security is a growing market - especially for highly-skilled former police officers," Dumbledore explained. "I would know - I employ a fair number of them."

Ron nodded in agreement, but Sirius said: "And if all else fails, Ginny needs a well-paid bodyguard, and I guess Hermione will need one as well." The older man chuckled at his own joke.

"Very funny," Harry said in a flat voice.

"Sheesh, lighten up, Harry," his godfather retorted. "Besides, this whole portal business is more important than any job, anyway."

"Yes," Harry's counterpart agreed. "It's a whole can of worms."

"That's why we have to keep it secret - in both worlds," Hermione said. "I don't trust the government - or the Ministry - to handle this with the necessary caution and care."

"Indeed!" Luna agreed. "You cannot trust any government - they're all corrupt and beholden to their backers in the shadows."

"Shacklebolt's alright," Ron's counterpart said. "He knows his business, and he does the right thing. Usually."

"He won't be Minister forever. What if he is succeeded by another Fudge? Or another Malfoy?" Hermione shook her head.

"There won't be another Malfoy," the other Ron told her. "But I know what you mean. We dealt with the worst of the Ministry, but the new people might have some bad eggs among them."

"Corruption is endemic to most organisations," Dumbledore said, nodding gravely. "And not all corruption stems from personal greed - sometimes, people break laws with the best of intentions. Or so they think."

Ron wondered - privately, of course - if the old man spoke from personal experience. And with regard to corruption - Ron and his friends certainly had broken a lot of laws with Dumbledore's help already. Mostly abroad, of course.

"We'll just have to keep vigilant," his counterpart said, "and deal with it when it crops up."

"Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty," Dumbledore said. "Or, as Mr Moody would say, 'Constant vigilance'."

"I don't trust the Ministry," Hermione repeated. "And while my opinion of Her Majesty's Government is quite a bit better, I don't trust them with the security and the secrecy of the portal."

"A very sensible stance," Dumbledore agreed. "Despite my best efforts in my time, I cannot say that the government is free of spies. Information tends to leak to all sorts of interested parties. And we can be sure that the Russians will redouble their efforts to penetrate our security."

"Information needs to be free, though," Luna said. "Without supervision by the public, you have no accountability. Can you trust yourself with this?"

That was a very good question, Ron couldn't help thinking.

"I think so," Hermione retorted. "But regardless, I know that the government - or the Ministry - learning about the portal will lead to serious problems with grave consequences for a large number of innocent people."

Luna frowned at her. "That sounds like the same argument the government uses."

"That doesn't make it wrong in this case," Hermione replied. "It's not ideal, but if you know a better solution, I'll gladly implement it instead."

Luna blinked, then pouted. "I'll have to get back to you about that."

Hermione's smile was, perhaps, a little smug in Ron's opinion.

"So," his counterpart said, "I'll go tell Lavender and the parents."

"And my counterpart!" Luna added.

"If she's home," the other Ron replied before leaving through the door.

Ron frowned. "Why didn't he just apparate from here?"

"You mean disapparate," Hermione corrected him. "It's bad manners to disapparate from someone's living room. And homes are usually warded with Anti-Apparition Jinxes. The entrance hall might be an exception."

"Exactly," the other Harry confirmed with a smile.

"I'll tell Dobby to fix something for lunch," Ginny's counterpart said. "It might take a little longer, though, because there are so many of us."

"If we're imposing, then we can go get a takeaway from somewhere," Ginny replied. "It can't be easy to cook for half a dozen additional guests."

"It's not a problem; we can multiply the food once it's ready," the witch told her with a grin.

"Magic really is useful!" Luna said. "Imagine multiplying pudding. All the cake you can eat…"

"We try to avoid setting a bad example for the twins," Harry the wizard told her.

"That's a laudable stance. But what does that have to do with pudding?" Luna cocked her head as if she were honestly confused.

"Uh…" Apparently, Harry's counterpart fell for it. "Overeating cake is bad for your health. Trust me, I know - my cousin served as a really bad example."

"Couldn't you use magic to make pudding healthy?" Luna asked. "Or is there a potion to deal with overeating?"

"Well, in theory, it should be possible," Hermione said. "Magic can deal with worse health impediments, after all. However, I don't recall any such spells."

"Aw."

Ron blinked. Had Dumbledore chimed in with Luna?

"You'd make millions, no, billions, with that," Ginny said. "Eat what you want, as much as you want, with no negative consequences? People would kill for that. Or to stop it from wrecking the dieting business."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Another reason to keep the portal a secret."

"I concur. However, it isn't a reason not to pursue this further," Dumbledore said with a wide smile. "I might yet convert Gellert to enjoying dessert with me."

"Err, yes, I suppose so. But I think there are more pressing matters to which we need to attend," Hermione said. "Like finding a discreet Healer."

"A Healer? Is someone hurt?" Ron heard Hermione say _behind _him and herself. He leapt to his feet and whirled, hand going to his gun. Who had…? He blinked. There was a younger Hermione staring at him from the landscape painting on the wall. A painted Hermione.

"That's the portrait?" Hermione exclaimed next to him. "It can appear here?"

"Of course I can," the portrait replied. "I would be very limited if I were confined to Hogwarts, wouldn't I?" Suddenly, the portrait frowned. "You look like Hermione."

"I am Hermione."

"That is impossible. She died, and you don't look like a ghost. And if you were a ghost, you'd appear at Hogwarts, not here."

Ron saw Hermione press her lips together, then glare at Harry's counterpart. "Can you tell it that I'm Hermione?"

The wizard looked embarrassed. "Ah, Hermione, this is Hermione Granger. Your original."

"Really? You're serious?"

"Yes."

"Oh! That's great!" The portrait was now beaming at Hermione. "I was limited to the recollections of your friends, unlike other portraits. But with you now present, I can finally copy you perfectly! That will make my duties so much easier!"

"Copy me…? Your duties?"

"I'm a prefect, tutor and assistant teacher." The portrait sounded proud.

"I see." Hermione sounded angry.

* * *

"...and we didn't plan to make her a prefect or tutor," Harry's counterpart said. "We just wanted a portrait of you, a sort of legacy. She - it - decided to become a prefect and help students. On its own."

"I'm not sure whether that makes it better or worse," Hermione mumbled - if he hadn't been sitting right next to her, Ron would have missed it. "So, you taught her all she knows."

"Everyone who knew you helped," he told her. "But mainly Ron and I." He frowned. "Mainly me, in the beginning - Ron couldn't, well…"

"I can imagine," she replied.

"Yes. But Ron was very helpful later," the portrait chimed in. "Not as helpful as you'll be, of course."

"You presume quite a lot," Hermione told it.

"Why wouldn't you help me reach my full potential? Wouldn't that be discrimination against paintings?" the portrait asked in a vexed tone.

"What…? Honestly!" Hermione shook her head. "And that is how every student at Hogwarts has known me for the last seven years?" She looked at Harry the wizard again.

He cringed a little but rallied. "Five years: it took some time to get it painted and, ah, instructed. But, well, you were one of the best prefects, ever - McGonagall said so herself. And you were always ready to help others with their homework, weren't you?"

"But…" Hermione sighed. "Well, I guess I will have to teach it more about myself."

"Of course!" the portrait told her, nodding.

She closed her eyes, and Ron squeezed her thigh in support.

"Well, it could've been worse," she muttered. "And it's just a painting." A little more loudly, she said: "Well, at least this should improve the student experience at Hogwarts. Organised tutoring, effective patrolling - although, now that I think about it: Why didn't the other portraits help with patrolling when we were at school?"

"They're hidebound relics," the portrait declared, "who wouldn't recognise bullying if it hexed them in the back."

"What?"

"All of the portraits are, well… very old-fashioned," Harry the wizard said. "Dumbledore's portrait is the youngest - and the only one that actually understands what we consider bullying."

"Oh."

Ron winced. The old teachers at his boarding school had been bad enough; to imagine getting disciplined by people from the Victorian age, or even older… He shuddered.

"That's just natural; old people cling to their outdated views, which is why they defend the status quo so much," Luna said.

"Exactly!" the portrait agreed. "Which is why it was fortunate that so many old wizards and witches were implicated in Voldemort's regime - their removal greatly facilitated the necessary reforms."

That sounded a little ominous, in Ron's opinion.

"They were tried for their crimes, not for political reasons," Harry the wizard said, frowning.

"As I said: fortunate," the portrait replied.

Hermione looked quite concerned now. Luna, on the other hand, was nodding in obvious and emphatic agreement. Which was a cause for concern by itself, of course.

"Well, good riddance to them," Ginny's counterpart said. "They deserved everything they got in the end; Dad almost got killed by the traitors in the Ministry during the coup, you remember?"

"Yes," Hermione said.

"And justice was done!" the portrait added.

"Although while purges might seem necessary at times - I remember the denazification efforts in Germany after the war - in that sort of situation, there will always be those who will be tempted to use the opportunity to take revenge or settle accounts," Dumbledore pointed out. "And there's also the danger of mob justice."

Ron didn't miss the other Harry's wince at that. "We did our best to cut down on all that," the wizard replied. "But the alternative would have been to let murderers and their helpers go free. As happened in 1981." He bared his teeth. "I won't have my children fighting the same bigots in ten, fifteen, years."

"Better safe than sorry," Ginny's counterpart added, leaning into his side.

Hermione nodded. "Two wars in two decades were enough."

She sounded a little off, though. At least to Ron.

"Well, as long as you didn't imitate the damned French," Sirius spoke up. "Wouldn't want to reenact the Terror."

"Oh, no," the portrait said. "There were no guillotines at all. It was the veil or Azkaban."

"Just as we planned," Harry the wizard said. "Justice for all who died."

Hermione nodded again. Then she took a deep breath. "So… who else died in the last battle?"

This time, both Ginny and Harry's counterparts winced.

* * *

"...and no one was in any mood to take prisoners. Not after all the dead students. Not after your… disappearance. We cornered the last Death Eaters in the dungeons and killed them all - they hadn't realised that we'd cut off the secret passages to Hogsmeade until they were trapped," the other Harry finished his rather grim story.

Hermione closed her eyes. "That's worse than I thought. So many students dead…"

"Murdered, yes," the wizard agreed with a grim expression. "It could have been worse, though."

"I don't think my lads would have taken prisoners, either, if we had seen half of what you did," Sirius said. "Hell, it was hard enough to hold back in the war, and the Argies weren't a bunch of murderous scumbags - well, most of them weren't."

"'The war'?" Harry the wizard asked.

"Falklands," Sirius said. "1982. I don't think you'd remember it."

"No, I don't. Uncle Vernon mentioned it a few times, though - I remember that," Harry's counterpart said.

"You were a soldier?" Ginny's counterpart asked.

"I was an officer in the Blues and Royals. Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons," Sirius answered.

"Horse guards?"

"Cavalry. Though we only ride horses for ceremonial tasks these days. In the war, I had a tank."

"A light tank," Harry corrected him.

"Anyway, I understand what you did," Sirius told them.

"They would have been executed anyway," Ginny the witch said.

"Some might have been under the Imperius Curse," Hermione pointed out.

Ron saw Harry the wizard clenching his jaws.

After a moment, Hermione took a deep breath. "Sorry."

The wizard nodded. "Anyway, after the Battle of Hogwarts, we mopped up the rest - those who had remained at the Ministry. A few tried to flee, but we caught most of them. Bounty hunters got some more." He shrugged. "Shacklebolt took over and has been Minister since."

"Dad's a Department Head," Ginny's counterpart added, "as is Percy."

"Oh, our dad and Percy would be proud," Ginny said. "It'll take them a little longer to get promoted."

Sirius leaned forward with a wide and a little too toothy smile. "Speaking of your father… does he take commissions? I would love to have him enchant a tank!"

It seemed Sirius hadn't abandoned his dream of a flying Scorpion.

"Oh, yes! We need a flying, invisible tank!" Luna chimed in. "I'll drive it!"

And, apparently, neither had Luna.

"No, we don't need a tank," Hermione said through clenched teeth. "Voldemort was defeated seven years ago."

"Well, yes, but a tank would come in very handy to protect the portal," Sirius retorted. "Especially if we can shrink it - who would expect a tank inside a building?"

"You don't have a tank to enchant," Harry pointed out.

"That's not the point!" Hermione retorted.

"I can buy one," Sirius said at the same time. "I've looked into it - I can claim I'm a collector and buy a Scorpion tank. As a former tank commander and member of the upper class, I won't have much trouble getting the permits."

"A demilitarised tank", Harry replied.

"Mr Dumbledore can fix that." Sirius made a dismissive wave with his hand. "Or magic."

"While Mr Black is essentially correct," Dumbledore said, inclining his head slightly towards the man, "I think there are several more advanced armoured vehicles that would be of greater use."

"Vehicles made by Phoenix Gruppe, I suppose." Sirius grinned.

"We do have very successful lines of wheeled and tracked vehicles," the old spymaster admitted. "And while magic does basically seem to render cargo capacity redundant, I think they offer more flexibility than a Scorpion."

"Real tanks have tracks!" Luna insisted with a frown.

Sirius rubbed his goatee. "But wheeled armoured fighting vehicles would be faster, and I'm a cavalry officer, after all. And if the tank can fly, the main advantage tracks provide is effectively gone."

Ron glanced at Hermione, who was slowly shaking her head. "Do you really think we'll need a flying tank to protect the portal?" he asked Sirius.

"It would be more mobile," the older man retorted. "We could deploy it to either site - here or in our world. And," he added with a wide smile, "if we can magically enlarge the interior, we could build a portal inside!"

"That's… that wouldn't exactly work," Hermione pointed out. "You can only open a portal at certain locations."

"We could drive to such locations," Luna retorted.

"And the power demands… the extension charms needed for that…" Hermione shook her head.

"Not to mention that you'd have a direct way into the tank if you ever lost control of the other side of a portal," Ron added.

"Well… what if we had a tank inside a tank?"

Sirius had to be taking the mickey. He had to.

* * *

Ten minutes filled with increasingly outlandish proposals later, they had moved to guest rooms to 'freshen up' before lunch - which would be soon. And Hermione was still fuming. "That… that's so irresponsible! A flying tank!" she huffed and shook her head.

"I don't think that he was actually serious," Ron told her, testing the bed's mattress. It was a far cry from the overly soft ones in Sirius's guest rooms.

"Really?" Hermione asked in a doubtful tone, turning slightly to face him.

"Well, about the tank inside a tank, and the portal inside a tank, or the mobile home base," Ron admitted. "He does seem to be serious about the tank." Though it was hard to tell with Sirius.

"It's ridiculous," she told him. "We couldn't use it in your world, and in this world, the threats aren't the kind of threats a tank is able to handle."

Ron would still prefer to be in a tank, though, when facing wizards. But this wasn't about the tank, in his opinion. "You're worried about something else, though, aren't you?"

She sighed, slumping over a little. "It's just… it's so different from what I expected. Everything." Shaking her head, she added: "The statue, the portrait, the reforms…"

"Well, didn't you expect your friends to honour you?"

"I did, but…" She sighed again. "The statue is one thing, but the portrait? It looks like in a few decades, I will be known as 'the perfect portrait prefect' among the students. That's not the legacy I wanted." She turned to look at him. "The worst thing is, they are the ones who taught the portrait how to act - they think that's how I would behave!"

"I don't think that was what they intended," Ron pointed out.

"But it happened." Another sigh. "I know it's vain, but I want to have a different reputation. Something more..." She shrugged. "Not just a prefect who enforces all the rules."

He nodded. He could understand that.

"Does that make me petty?"

"No."

"The worst thing is, I really was that sort of 'perfect prefect'."

He hugged her. "But you're not any more," he told her.

* * *

**The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

"Now this looks like a proper wizarding house!" Ron exclaimed after they had appeared in front of the gate leading to the home of this world's Weasley family. It really did - it seemed as if several small wooden houses had been stacked on top of each other, and then partially folded into one another. It was obvious that it would collapse without magic.

"It looks interesting," Luna agreed.

A pop announced Hermione's return with Harry and Ginny.

"That's The Burrow?" Ron's sister asked.

"Yes. It looks just like I remember," Hermione told them with a wistful expression. Then she disapparated again.

"It's in the same place as our home," Ginny said, "but smaller. Unless it's bigger inside."

"And my counterpart's family home is a chess piece!" Luna added, pointing across the pond.

You couldn't actually see anything but the very top of the Lovegoods' home, but Ginny's counterpart had shown them pictures.

Hemione returned again, this time with Dumbledore and Sirius. She stumbled a little, and Ron heard her mutter: "Perhaps we should've used the Floo Network."

"One form of magical transportation a time," he told her. He trusted Apparition much more than travelling through fireplaces. Burning fireplaces.

She nodded, looking at the house without saying anything for a moment. Then she disapparated once more, to fetch her parents.

A moment later, everyone was present. With the exception of the Grangers, everyone was in disguise - though wigs and some fake beards wouldn't fool the Weasleys, of course. But Ron hoped it would fool the children, at least.

Luna pointed at the patch of grass on the other side. "And there's the pitch! Where we can fly on brooms!"

"The Quidditch pitch," Hermione corrected her, sounding a little tired. "Well, it's not a full-size pitch, but close enough."

"It certainly looks unique," Dumbledore commented, unflappable as usual.

"Yes. And fragile," Sirius said.

"It's perfectly safe," Hermione told him. "Let's go in," she added, opening the gate. "Ginny and Harry must have already arrived - they used the Floo Network. It's easier on the children."

They reached the door, which had an old-fashioned knocker, not a bell, and Hermione hesitated again, Ron noticed - though she hid it by glancing at the others with them. "Don't eat anything the twins give you," she said.

"You said that before," Luna pointed out.

"We grew up with Fred and George," Ginny added. "We know better than that."

"Good." A deep breath later, Hermione reached for the knocker, but the door was opened before she could grab it.

"Hermione! Dear Lord, it's really you! We thought you had died! Ron was devastated! Everyone was… Merlin's beard!"

That was Mum, there, crying. And hugging Hermione, who was sobbing as well. Mum's counterpart, actually, wearing robes. A witch. But she sounded and looked so much like their Mum... Ron bit his lower lip. Ginny looked like she felt the same, he noticed.

Mrs Weasley released Hermione and looked at them. "Oh, even with the hair, you look just like Ron and Ginny, and Luna, and… Oh, my... " she paled, looking at Dumbledore and Sirius.

Ron swallowed the joke he had been about to make and nodded. "Yes, we're not from this world. And we aren't wizards."

"Or witches," Luna added.

"Molly? Won't you invite them inside?" Dad - Dad's counterpart appeared in the door. Ron saw the man's eyes widen, but, otherwise, he seemed to be more composed. Just like Dad.

"Oh, yes, where were my manners!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed. "Come in, everyone, come in!" She turned and stepped inside. "Everyone, they're here!"

"We've noticed!" Ron heard Fred or George answer.

"They must have called the entire family," Hermione mumbled next to him.

That was understandable, of course - Ron could imagine what the twins would do if they had been left out of this. Which, he realised, had actually happened to his brothers back home. They wouldn't be happy once they found out - if they ever did.

He snorted as he entered The Burrow. The first thing he noticed was that it was bigger inside than outside - by a lot. The second thing he noticed were all the people waiting there.

"Hermione!"

"Hey!"

"I almost didn't believe Ron, but he would never joke about this."

"Fred… George… Percy… Arthur..." Hermione sounded overwhelmed, so Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Wow, Ron was so jealous of us, he went and got himself a twin of his own!"

"And Gin did the same!"

"No, Gin got a twin of Harry!"

"Fred! George!" Mrs Weasley bellowed. "Behave!"

"Sorry, Mum."

"We were just getting overwhelmed by our emotions, so we made a joke. Sorry."

They didn't sound very honest, in Ron's opinion, but Mrs Weasley nodded, then turned towards them. "Now, please come in and take a seat."

"With pleasure, Mrs Weasley. I fear I'm not as spry as I was," Dumbledore said.

"He sounds just like the Headmaster."

"But he dresses like a muggle."

"Well, I am a muggle," the old man replied as he sat down on a couch. "Robes are not exactly in fashion in our world."

"Well, the Headmaster's robes weren't in fashion in our world, either,"

"Fred!"

"What? It's true!"

Ron snorted again, and he wasn't the only one. Even though Hermione's chuckle also sounded a little like a sob.

"Charlie is still working in Romania, so he couldn't make it," Mrs Weasley told them. "But Bill and Fleur are coming with Victoire - they should be arriving any minute now, actually."

Ron reflexively looked at the tall grandfather clock and blinked. That wasn't a clock, but a tracker, apparently. A magical home, indeed, he thought with a smile.

"Victoire is their daughter?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes - no one told you?"

"We haven't had time to go into details," Hermione told the other witch.

"So they didn't tell you about me, either?" A tall, black woman asked, taking a step closer to them. Behind her, a young girl, about three years old, followed, one hand gripping the woman's robes.

"Angelina?" Hermione looked surprised. "No, they didn't."

"I'll have words with them, later, then," she said, grinning at Harry's counterpart.

"Hey! That was Ron's task," Harry the wizard defended himself.

"And I'm sure he'll agree, won't he?" Angelina shook her head and pulled the girl in front of her, keeping her hands on her shoulders. "This is Beatrice, our daughter."

"H-hi!" the kid squeaked.

"Don't let her fool you, she's as bad as her fathers."

Fathers? Ah. Ron glanced at the twins, noting how they were eyeing them. Was this a test?

"Oh!" Hermione blinked, obviously surprised. "A lot of things just started making sense," she said.

"Our greatest prank, ever!" George proclaimed.

"Even we got confused!" Fred added.

"Prats," Angelina retorted.

"So, did you open a joke shop?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes. Best joke shop in Britain," Fred said.

"It's at a prime location in Diagon Alley, which helps, of course," George explained. "But we're thinking of expanding."

"We've got some samples of our products here, if anyone's interested." Fred grinned and pulled a bag out of an obviously enchanted pocket in his robes.

"Dr Granger warned us about your products," Dumbledore said.

"And some of us know your counterparts," Sirius added. Harry and Ginny, who had been talking to Mr Weasley and their own counterparts, nodded.

"Magical sweets? I would like some!" Luna said.

That seemed to surprise the two. "Really?" Fred asked.

"Boys, behave!" Mrs Weasley said. "No pranks in the house." She turned to Luna. "Their products aren't always as funny as they think."

"Oh."

"Now we're 'boys' again," George complained. "We'll be 'boys' until we're older than Dumbledore - our Dumbledore."

"That's not a bad thing," Dumbledore replied. "To quote one of the favourite books of a dear friend of mine: Only those who, even as adults, remain children, are human."

"Now that's a saying I can get behind!" Fred said, nodding rapidly.

"Imagine the amount of business we could do if all adults remained kids," George added. "Say… that gives me an idea."

"Rejuvenating Refreshers?"

"Kind of redundant, right?"

"True."

"No research at the dinner table!" Angelina snapped. "You know the rules!"

"Yes, Daddies!" Beatrice added, nodding emphatically. "No rules breaking where Mum can see you!"

Both twins made exaggerated shushing motions, though they didn't seem overly worried about the rapidly clouding expression of their apparently shared partner.

"No hexing in the house," Mrs Weasley chastised all three. "We're here to welcome Hermione back, not to drive her away!"

"There's no danger of that," Hermione said, smiling widely. "I've missed this."

"Of course you did!" Mrs Weasley enveloped her in another hug. "But you're back now, and that's all that counts!"

It wasn't, Ron knew. At least not for him.

The fireplace flared up, and three people stepped out of it in rapid succession: Bill's counterpart, looking even more rakish than Ron's brother, with long hair and what looked like a tiger fang earring, an adorable blonde girl about Beatrice's age, and… Ron blinked. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. That was Fleur, the French witch? Some of Hermione's stories sounded much more believable, now. "Bill would be so jealous," he muttered.

"Bill?" Hermione asked in a slightly annoyed tone.

Ah. Of course. But before Ron could assure her that he wasn't jealous, Fleur came over, hugging Hermione and kissing her cheeks. Repeatedly. Apparently, French witches were, well, as French as their muggle compatriots. "Hermione! It is you! I didn't want to believe it when Bill told me!"

"Fleur! You lost your accent?"

"Mais oui…" the Veela replied with a wide smile.

Meanwhile, Victoire was staring at him, Ron noticed. "Uncle Ron?" she asked. "You're dressed funny!"

"I'm not your uncle Ron," he told her with a smile. "I'm a distant relative Ron from far away. And my clothes are very fashionable there."

"Dis… distant relative?" She looked confused.

"Distant family," Bill the wizard explained.

"Oh! Like Uncle Freangeorge!"

"Hey!" the twins protested.

"Yes. Just with better manners."

Well, Ron could agree with that description.

"Where's Uncle Ron?"

That was a good question.

"He should be here already," Mrs Weasley said as more of the couches were being occupied. "Perhaps Lavender isn't feeling well - she's having some troubles with her pregnancy; her first wasn't easy, either."

"Ah." Hermione nodded, though she was a little too tense for her smile. Unfinished business, Ron thought.

As if on cue, the fireplace flared up again, and Ron's counterpart stepped out of the green flames. "Sorry for being late," he said. "We had a small problem at home. It's all solved now, though."

Behind him, a little boy arrived and made a beeline for Victoire. "Vicky!"

"Rogee!"

The witch that followed the kid out of the fireplace wasn't as beautiful as Fleur, but she was very pretty - and, obviously, took great care with her appearance. Perfect makeup and hairstyle, immaculate robes. She did look like the Lavender Brown of his world - just grown up.

"Lavender."

"Hermione."

Both were smiling at each other, but only a fool would miss that there were issues.

Great.

* * *

"_Hermione."_

"_Lavender." She nodded at the other witch and moved to the side so she could enter Gryffindor Tower behind her._

_Lavender didn't walk past her, though, but instead stayed where she was and frowned at her. "I know what you're doing."_

"_I would hope you know," she replied. "Since I just said I was going on my prefect rounds."_

_The frown turned into a glare. "That's not what I mean! I know that you're trying to take my boyfriend!"_

"_What? Me?" She snorted. "Don't be a fool!" She wasn't trying to take Ron from Lavender. But she wouldn't let him neglect his duties as a prefect just so he could snog his girlfriend a little more. They were the youngest prefects in Gryffindor House, which meant that they had the worst patrols. And Hermione wouldn't go on them alone!_

"_Liar! I know you want him! But he's my boyfriend!"_

"_And he's my friend and fellow prefect," she retorted, glaring at Lavender. She wasn't some silly girl who thought a teenage romance was the love of her life._

"_And you think that means he should be your boyfriend!"_

"_No, that means I think that he should do his duty as a prefect," she corrected the girl._

"_I'm warning you: If I catch you trying to seduce him…" Lavender actually waved her wand in her face._

"_Me? Seduce him?" She scoffed. "You're ridiculous! Put that wand away before I remove it for you."_

"_What?"_

_She had her wand in hand already - the other witch probably hadn't even noticed. A little hex, and Lavender wouldn't try to threaten her again…_

_The portrait behind them swung to the side. "Hermione? Oh, Lavender!"_

"_Won-Won!"_

_Hermione rolled her eyes as the girl all but tackled Ron and started snogging her friend. Honestly! She should deduct points from the silly witch for being out past curfew!_


	38. Chapter 38: The Counterpart

Once more, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 38: The Counterpart**

**The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

"Ron told me how you were sent to another world and managed to come back. That must have been a terrible ordeal," Lavender said. She didn't move to hug Hermione, Ron noted. "But you're alive, and that's all that counts. We're happy to have you back." Her smile was also a little more polite than happy.

"Thank you," Hermione replied with an equally polite - or guarded - smile. "I'm happy to be back as well."

"Of course. Living without magic must have been terrible!" Lavender gasped.

"Living as a muggle isn't the end of the world," Hermione told her, a little sharply. Not that Ron minded the sentiment.

"And she still saved my life with magic," he said.

Lavender's eyes widened - had she been so focused on Hermione that his disguise had fooled her? "Oh. You're the other Ron. The Ron who, ah..."

"Well, I consider your Ron the other Ron," he told her.

"That's going to be confusing," his counterpart said.

"You should be used to that," Fred cut in. "You keep mixing up Fred and me!"

"Fred!" Angelina shook her head.

Hermione and Lavender were ignoring him anyway, or so it seemed. "I heard you and Ron got married. Please accept my belated congratulations," Hermione said.

"Thank you. We're very happy." Lavender put a hand on her stomach - she wasn't showing, yet.

"So I've heard," Hermione said. "It looks like the next generation is well underway," she added, with a glance to the side.

Ron followed her gaze and spotted Roger, Victoire, James and Jean standing in the kitchen's entrance, grouped tightly together. Were they scared? They did look nervous. And where was Beatrice? Oh.

Ron chuckled. The kids were trying to block the view into the kitchen, where Beatrice was apparently trying to raid the pantry without being noticed. They were a handful, indeed.

And they were, apparently, eagerly listening. Damn. His good mood evaporated. They wouldn't have heard much, and would understand even less - or so he hoped - but they were still a security risk. You couldn't exactly obliviate your kids, could you? "Perhaps we should leave those details for after dinner? We wouldn't want to bore the kids, would we?" he suggested.

"Oh." Hermione must have realised that as well. "Yes, that would be better, I think."

"Not bored!" Roger protested.

Jean nodded. "Just talk like normal," she said, sounding quite earnest.

"Jean…" Ginny's counterpart took a few steps closer. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing?" Jean's smile grew more than a little forced.

"They're trying to get to the desserts!" Angelina exclaimed. "Beatrice!"

"We're playing! Hide and seek!" Roger claimed.

"Right." Angelina waved her wand, and Beatrice floated out of the kitchen.

"But you didn't see me!" the little girl protested.

"I did! And that's no dessert for you!"

That triggered a wave of shocked gasps - including, Ron noted, from Luna. But sorting out that, at least, broke the growing tension between Hermione and Lavender. At least until dinner.

* * *

"How much did they overhear?" Ron asked after the kids had successfully pleaded for a stay of execution, supported by Luna, and been sent out to play in the garden.

"Not enough to spill the secret," wizard Harry said. "For them, muggle Britain might as well be another world."

Ron could see how that would work, but he didn't think everyone would be fooled by it. He didn't know enough about wizards to tell, though. "Our disguises are a little weak, though."

"Distant relatives," Harry said. "Or we can blame Fred and George for pranking Hermione by transfiguring her friends into Weasleys."

"Hey!" George protested.

"Yes, hey… that's actually a good idea!" Fred added.

"Twin Toffees?"

"Perfect!" Fred pointed his index finger at his brother.

"We should have more family dinners like this - they're very good for our business!" Fred said.

"We do have a family dinner every Sunday," Mrs Weasley pointed out.

"Well, yeah… now that you mention it. We'll have to attend more often, I guess, now that the brightest witch is back among us, and brought friends." Fred nodded.

"I still can't believe you put that on a statue," Hermione said.

"Well, it's true. Now more than ever," Ron's counterpart replied.

"Well, I guess it's better than the 'perfect portrait prefect'," she said.

That caused Harry and Ron's counterparts to wince, and the twins to chuckle.

Then the fireplace flared up again, and Luna arrived. Wizarding Luna.

She looked around, blinking, until she spotted Hermione. "Hermione! Is it really you? You're not a Bavarian Doppelgänger?"

Bavarian Doppelgänger? Ron blinked.

Hermione, though, was unfazed. "It's me - Harry and Ron confirmed my identity."

Wizarding Luna frowned just like Luna, then cocked her head at the two wizards. "Really?"

"Yes," wizarding Harry confirmed with a nod.

"And you weren't confunded?"

"We were careful."

"You checked with ale?"

"Ale?" Ron blurted out before he could control himself.

"Bavarian Doppelgängers can't stand ale. The smell alone sends them into a frothing rage," wizarding Luna explained. "If they are tricked into drinking it, they resume their true form - a small dwarf with a beard made of beer."

"And you brought ale," Hermione said, still smiling.

"Of course. First thing I bought when I heard," wizarding Luna said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out… a pint of ale? In a glass, not a bottle?

Hermione accepted it and took a large swallow while Luna peered at her with squinting eyes. "Ah. That's a good one."

"Your favourite," wizarding Luna said, then hugged her. "It's really you! You didn't die!"

"No, I didn't. But I got dimensionally misplaced, and it took me years to find a way back."

"As long as you managed to return home," wizarding Luna said, releasing her. Then she blinked. "Dimensionally misplaced?"

Hermione looked at wizarding Harry and Ron. "You didn't tell her?"

"We just said that you were back," wizarding Harry replied. "We didn't want to go into details, in case the message was intercepted."

Ron nodded. That was smart.

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "In that case, Luna, I was transported to another world - a world without magic, but with other versions of ourselves."

"Really?" Wizarding Luna looked doubtful.

"Yes," Ron said, stepping closer to Hermione and wizarding Luna. "I'm Ron Weasley - from the other world."

"And I'm Luna Lovegood!" Luna chimed in, beaming at her counterpart as she pulled her dark wig off. "We're in disguise because they think we need to be kept a secret."

"Oh!" Wizarding Luna looked shocked, then leaned forward and peered at them. "You really look like me. Like a twin."

"So do you," Luna told her. "But I'm not a witch. I'm a hacker!"

"A hacker?"

"I hack into computers to expose the government's secrets!"

"Ah. Like the Rotfang Conspiracy?"

"Exactly!"

Ron didn't think wizarding Luna had any idea what computers were or how hacking worked. But it was obvious that she was as much into conspiracies as his Luna.

* * *

"So you're in disguise to keep your world's existence a secret?" wizarding Luna asked about ten minutes filled with various introductions and explanations later.

"Yes," Luna replied. "I'm not convinced that's a good course of action, but I was told that there are too many evil wizards in this world who'd try to invade our world if they knew about it."

Wizarding Luna nodded. "Oh, yes, they would. Especially if they knew that there are dimensional twins in your world - they could replace a lot of people. Well, with some people, it would be a clear improvement, but it would still be a bad thing."

"There aren't any wizards or witches in the other world," Hermione said. "It's a muggle world."

"Right." Wizarding Luna frowned again. "Does that mean that there aren't any magical creatures, either?"

"I'm sorry, Luna, but I don't think so."

"What about muggle creatures that don't exist in our world?"

"I can't prove it, but my observations so far would lead me to conclude that there aren't any animals unique to the other world, either."

"Aw." She pouted. "I was hoping for a new exclusive for The Quibbler."

"We're trying to keep the other world a secret, Luna," Hermione reminded her.

"Well, we could've smuggled a few animals into our world. The way the muggles cause animals to go extinct, there's more than enough room here." The witch sighed.

"That's the same in our world," Luna said. "It's all the fault of the corrupt governments controlled by evil corporations. They value profit over nature."

"That's stupid. Isn't anyone doing anything about that?" Wizarding Luna asked.

"We're trying our best, but we're too few, and most people don't care," Luna replied. "We don't have any witches and wizards who could use magic to solve this problem, either."

Both Lunas blinked, and Ron felt a cold shiver run down his spine. They wouldn't...

"I could help you!" wizarding Luna exclaimed. "There's no law against it in the other world, is there?"

"Oh no, there isn't, since magic doesn't exist there," Luna told her, beaming.

They would. Ron closed his eyes.

"What? You plan to take over the world?" Hermione blurted out.

"No!" Luna shook her head. "Just a few parts of it. Parts about to be destroyed anyway."

"Yes! Think of all the poor animals! Magic can save them!" wizarding Luna added in an earnest tone of voice.

"You can't exactly save the environment with a single wand," Hermione pointed out.

"But you can save the species in threatened ecosystems," wizarding Luna retorted. "And we can create habitats that are muggle-proof!"

"Oh, yes - with magic, we can fit a savannah inside a suitcase, right?" Luna beamed at her counterpart.

"Well, an entire savannah might be a little much, you don't need that much to keep an ecosystem self-contained," wizarding Luna explained.

Ron blinked. He didn't know this Luna, but if she was in any way similar to his Luna - and that was the impression he had so far - then that sounded a little too… "You've done that before, haven't you?" he asked.

Wizarding Luna blinked. "What?"

"You already created such habitats, and used them." He watched her closely.

"That would be illegal," she replied. "And Harry and Ron would have to arrest me if I were to do such a thing."

Oh, yes, she had. Ron sighed again.

"Luna!" Apparently, the other Ron had caught on as well. "You can't use magic to interfere with the muggle world!"

"Of course I can - hypothetically. Any witch or wizard has the capability to do so, after all," wizarding Luna retorted with an innocent smile that didn't fool anyone. Well, perhaps the kids.

"Luna…" Wizarding Harry sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. "Don't tell me that you're endangering the Statute of Secrecy by interfering with the muggle ecosystem."

"Of course not. If I were to tell you that, you'd have to arrest me!"

"Exactly!" Luna nodded several times. "We wouldn't want to force the loyal enforcers of the government's will to choose between their friends or their paycheck!"

"That's not what this is about!" wizarding Harry protested.

"And imagine if they had to explain to their children that they sent their Luna to prison for the crime of saving poor animals!" Luna said.

"Well, it would be a chance to study Dementors," wizarding Luna added.

"What? Dementors?" Hermione looked at her wizarding friends. "Surely those are limited to the worst dark wizards…"

The expressions on wizarding Harry and Ron's faces told Ron that this wasn't true even before his counterpart replied.

"Well… there were so many prisoners after the Death Eater trials, there weren't enough guards to handle them, so…" Wizarding Ron shrugged. "It's gotten better since then."

"Because there are more guards - or fewer prisoners?" Hermione pursed her lips.

"Both," wizarding Harry told her.

She scoffed. "If you plan to arrest Luna, you might as well arrest me since I used magic to deal with muggles in the other world myself!"

"Muggle criminals," Ron was quick to clarify. "And it was to save your and our lives."

She glared at him, but he met her eyes.

"No one's arresting Luna or Hermione," wizarding Ron said. "Merlin's beard, who do you think we are?"

"Loyal enforcers of the state?" Luna asked, tilting her head.

Wizarding Harry groaned and leaned back on the couch he and wizarding Ginny were occupying.

"See, this is why I don't tell them about such things, so they don't feel conflicted," wizarding Luna said.

"Yes." Luna nodded in agreement. "I do the same. Of course, separating your private life and your business is just common sense."

"But if you can't talk about your day then that makes for a rather boring dinner," wizarding Luna retorted.

"Only if all you do is work, and if that's the case, something's wrong anyway," Luna told her.

Now Ron was wondering what else Luna hadn't told him.

"Oh, I wish Gellert would share that view. Even at our age, he still works far too much," Dumbledore remarked.

"Gellert?" Wizarding Luna blinked. "Like…"

"Not our Grindelwald," Hermione interrupted her.

"But his counterpart!" The witch smiled. "Does that mean Skeeter's book was correct?"

"I haven't read it, so I couldn't possibly comment," Dumbledore replied.

"Oh, she wrote that our Dumbledore and Grindelwald were lovers before Grindelwald's War;" wizarding Luna said.

"Oh, that's different. We were both junior officers during the war, and despite fighting for different sides, we became lovers. After a brief separation, we reunited after the war," the old man told her. "And we've been together ever since."

"How romantic!" wizarding Luna exclaimed.

"They also built the biggest arms business in Europe," Hermione pointed out. "While running the Secret Service."

Judging by their expressions, most wizards and witches present didn't quite understand what that meant, Ron assumed. His and Harry's counterparts, though, were not among them.

Dumbledore inclined his head with a faint smile. "Indeed - which allowed me to both protect you and your work, as well as provide you with the resources to finish your portal."

Hermione nodded, acknowledging the point - though Ron could tell that she did so grudgingly. Though he hadn't missed that Luna hadn't commented on that.

Great.

* * *

"And here's where we keep our brooms," wizarding Ron announced, opening the door of a rather shabby-looking wooden shed and revealing…

...a rather shabby looking interior containing about a dozen brooms. They looked like ordinary, old-fashioned brooms, as far as Ron could tell. It was almost a little disappointing - no extension charms. No magical protections. No guardian creatures.

"Oh! Oh! Flying brooms! Actual flying brooms!" Of course, Luna's enthusiasm wasn't deterred in the slightest. "Which one would you recommend?" she asked wizarding Ron with a beaming smile.

"Ah, any of them should do," he replied.

"These are brooms meant for beginners," wizarding Luna added. "The high-performance brooms are kept inside the house."

"Oh?" Luna turned away from where she had been gushing over the brooms. "In case you get attacked and have to flee?"

"Well, mostly so the kids won't get their fingers on Firebolts and the like," wizarding Ron explained.

"It's a Weasley tradition to sneak out and grab a broom to fly even though you're not allowed to," wizarding Luna added. "Ginny started when she was six."

"Each of us did it, I believe." Wizarding Ron grinned. "It was fine when all we had were old, slow brooms, but a Firebolt? You can kill yourself with one of those if you mess up a Wronski Feint."

"'Wronski feint'?" Ron asked.

"Ah. Figures Hermione wouldn't have told you about Quidditch," the wizard said, chuckling.

"She did, actually," Luna retorted. "It's the game with hoops and flying cannonballs, right?"

Wizarding Ron laughed. "That's as good a description as any. In any case, a Wronski Feint is when one Seeker tries to fool the other Seeker into believing that they have spotted the Snitch. They enter a dive, hoping the other will follow, and at the last moment, they pull up while the other, distracted by looking for the Snitch, crashes onto the ground. When it works, that is."

That sounded crazy. No wonder Hermione wasn't fond of the sport.

"And if it doesn't?" Luna asked. "Both crash?"

"No. If it doesn't work, then you just lost altitude for nothing."

"Ah." Luna nodded. "So… which broom should I pick?"

"All of them have had safety charms cast on them," Ron explained. "So… pick whichever you want."

"Which is the fastest?"

"Ah… this one. That's a Cleansweep Three. My great-uncle used it when he flew for the Cannons."

"Oh! A Quidditch broom?" Luna grabbed it and put it between her legs. "It doesn't work?"

"Ah. Put it on the ground, then hold your hand out and say 'up'," wizarding Ron told her. "Firmly and confidently."

"UP!"

The broom didn't move.

"UP!" Luna repeated herself. "UP! UP! Upupupupup!" She looked dejected. "It doesn't work for muggles?"

"It should - most brooms come with Muggle-Repelling Charms to prevent muggles from accidentally flying off if they find a lost broom," wizarding Ron said. "But it's an old broom and a little temperamental."

That sounded as if the broom had a will of its own. Not exactly encouraging, in Ron's opinion.

"Just put all your longing to fly into it, and you'll be fine," wizarding Luna added, grabbing a broom for herself.

"UP!"

The broom leapt into Luna's hand. Ron saw her expression turn into a look of wonder he hadn't seen often lately.

"Now mount it like this." Wizarding Luna straddled her own broom.

"And grip it tightly, but not too tightly," wizarding Ron added. "Then jump off and pull…"

"WHEEE!"

"...up slowly," he finished, staring after Luna, who was already at a height of twenty feet - and still rising.

"Is it supposed to go that high?" Ron asked.

"Yes," his counterpart replied. "Don't worry, the ground on the pitch is charmed as well."

That didn't really reassure Ron, but wizarding Luna was already chasing after Luna - and gaining quickly. "I thought she took the fastest broom," Ron commented.

"She's a muggle; brooms go faster if they're ridden by a wizard or witch. It's how the magic works."

"Ah." So, not even in the air were they equal. That figured.

"Do you want to take a broom up as well?" the other Ron asked.

Ron was tempted. Very tempted. To fly… Luna was having the time of her life, as far as Ron could tell. On the other hand… He looked around. The kids were at the pond, something about hunting winter faeries, with Ginny the witch supervising. Luna and wizarding Luna were high up in the air. And the others were in the house, or in Mr Weasley's shed. Which did have Extension Charms cast on it. This was as private as it could probably get, here.

He glanced at his counterpart.

"Ah." The other Ron sported a thin grin and quickly glanced around as well before focusing on Ron again. "So… you and Hermione?"

"You and Lavender?" Ron replied, then frowned. He hadn't wanted to use such a stupid comeback, but it slipped out before he could think of any of his planned openings - he had been hoping for an opportunity like this, after all.

The other Ron frowned. "Hey! For years, I thought she had died. I didn't jump into Lavender's bed on the same day as the funeral, you know."

"There was a funeral?" Ron asked. "You haven't mentioned that before."

"Harry didn't tell you?" Wizarding Ron seemed honestly surprised. "Well, he probably told Hermione."

And Hermione wouldn't have mentioned it to me?, Ron thought with a frown. Well, she did have a lot on her mind, and they hadn't had a lot of time to talk privately. "Perhaps," he said.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Wizarding Ron looked to be younger, in Ron's opinion, but that might just be his imagination - he knew that wizards lived longer. On the other hand, Mr Weasley didn't look younger than Dad. Perhaps they simply grew older? Ron would have liked to say that the other man looked softer, but wizarding Ron didn't. "I've heard a lot about you," he said, "but only about your school years."

"Figures," wizarding Ron replied with a shrug.

"Yes."

"And I don't match what you expected, hm?"

"I didn't expect anything," Ron lied. "We didn't even know if time had passed at the same rate in both worlds."

Wizarding Ron blinked. "Blimey. You thought that you could have returned after decades?"

"Or at the same moment Hermione had left," Ron pointed out.

That made his counterpart wince. "That would have been…"

"Awkward," Ron finished for him. It would have been. But he was fairly sure that Hermione wouldn't have picked a boy seven years younger than herself, so that would have settled things.

Wizarding Ron snorted. "Oh, yeah. Very awkward. But she would've been here. Alive."

"Yes." And probably been involved in wizarding politics straight away, from what Ron could tell. "And there wouldn't have been a statue of her or a portrait."

"But it would've been harder to explain her age," wizarding Ron told him.

"Couldn't you blame a curse for that?" Sacrificing years of your life in exchange for a spell was a staple of some stories. Or being forcefully aged - like in Indiana Jones.

Wizarding Ron frowned. "The Healers at St Mungo's would have expected to examine her and then tried to find a cure. And they wouldn't find anything. Not that that would be terribly new, of course. So... it could've worked. Perhaps."

"Better than amnesia?" Ron asked. But before his counterpart could answer, he had another thought: "But won't they want to examine her for her supposed amnesia if she's claiming that now?"

"They might, but if she says she remembers everything again, that should put a stop to that. It's not as if people like having others rummaging around inside their heads." The other Ron shrugged. "And, well, no one wanted to question us, anyway, after Voldemort's death."

"So I thought."

That earned Ron another frown - he must have failed to hide how he felt about that. "Hey! Who should have questioned us, and for what? Voldemort had taken over the country, and we had to do something about that. Would you have left a bunch of bigots in power after they spent months trying to murder all the muggleborn?"

Of course he wouldn't have! Ron almost snarled. That was a low blow. "I'm not concerned about the murderers," he said instead, as calmly as he could. "But where did you draw the line?"

"We didn't; there were trials."

"Who were the judges?" Ron asked.

"All the surviving Wizengamot members who hadn't joined Voldemort." Wizarding Ron narrowed his eyes at him - as if daring him to question the other man further.

So, of course, Ron did exactly that. "That doesn't really constitute an unbiased judge and jury, now does it?"

Wizarding Ron scoffed. "It was the best we could do. You think anyone was unbiased, after a bloody war? Everyone had lost someone. At least. This wasn't just a trial for a few dark wizards caught murdering a family. The Ministry itself was full of them."

Ron understood the message - he hadn't been there, he hadn't fought in the war, he shouldn't judge those who had. But Ron had been - still was - a CI5 officer. "What about foreign judges?"

"What? Foreigners? Judging British wizards? You barmy, mate?" Wizarding Ron shook his head. "Most of them are bigots, anyway - they'd acquit everyone and try to sentence _us_!" He snorted. "Didn't Hermione tell you about Magical Europe's history?"

Ron was getting tired of those digs. "She did, actually," he replied. "But she didn't tell me that everyone outside Britain was a bigot." Which was ludicrous to begin with.

"Of course not everyone is a bigot. Just most of them. And do you think those who aren't bigots wouldn't be biased against the Death Eaters, after living with bigots for so long?"

His counterpart had a point, though Ron didn't want to admit it. He also needed more information about this world; that was obvious. He shrugged. "Perhaps. So, you married Lavender."

"And you're with Hermione. How did that happen?"

"She told you, didn't she?" Ron retorted.

"Yes. But I want to know why you got together with her."

Ah. "Really?" He snorted. "I fell in love with her, and she liked me back. Simple as that."

"While you were being hunted by criminals and fighting for your lives."

Ron didn't like the insinuation. "You think this is just… stress relief?" He narrowed his eyes at his counterpart.

Wizarding Ron met his eyes without flinching. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

"Why? Do you think your relationship with her was only based on that?"

He saw the other Ron's jaw twitch. That hit home. "We were best friends for years before we got together!" the wizard protested. "We knew each other's secrets. We weren't just some… whatever."

Ron kept himself from glaring at the wizard. He couldn't keep the sneer off his face, though. "How long did it take you to notice her, even though you were so close? You were with Lavender before you and Hermione got together, weren't you?"

"We were teenagers. Don't tell me that you were perfect at that age."

Ron scoffed at that. "You're not me. Don't assume we are identical."

"We aren't. I'm a wizard."

That was the crux of the issue. "So?" Ron asked with a forced shrug. "Do you think that makes you better?"

"No." The wizard was glaring at him. "But I grew up in the magical world. You have no idea what our world's like. Hell, without Hermione, you can't even get into most places." He took a step closer to Ron. "Can you live like that? As a muggle among wizards?"

He had been asking himself that same question. And he didn't have an answer. But that wasn't any of the other man's business. "Why do you assume that we'd live in your world?"

Wizarding Ron blinked. "What? Hermione's a witch. Your children will be wizards and witches. They'll have wizarding friends and go to Hogwarts, like everyone else."

"So? That doesn't mean we have to live there." He narrowed his eyes again. "Others have managed." Hermione had told him that.

"That only works if the wizarding parent looks after the kids. You couldn't deal with accidental magic. And can you see Hermione as a housewife?" Wizarding Ron shook his head.

As if the git would have become a stay-at-home-dad! They weren't that different. Ron snorted. "If it's needed - and that's a big if - we can hire an au pair witch or wizard. Hermione's parents managed to raise her without magic, didn't they?"

"I bet that the Obliviators had to visit a few times to fix accidental magic," the wizard shot back.

Obliviators? Oh. The mind-wiping wizards. Ron definitely didn't want them barging into his home. "As I said, if needed, we can hire a nanny to handle any children." He shook his head. "Why are you being so pushy, anyway? Hermione can make her own decisions." He could imagine her reaction if he told her about wizarding Ron trying to meddle in their relationship.

"Of course she can! But you wouldn't be the first muggle who couldn't handle marrying a witch! And that would hurt her."

"What makes you think I couldn't handle it?" Ron snapped, with more anger than the question deserved.

"Because I know what it's like to feel overshadowed and jealous."

Ron drew a sharp breath, struggling to control his reaction. How had the…

The wizard's frown turned into a wry, almost sad, smile. "Thought so. Guess we're not as different as I hoped."

"We're not the same. And I'm not an insecure teenager." Not any more, in any case. He was a CI5 officer - still - and a damn good one. None of his brothers had done what he had done.

"But you're a muggle with a witch." Wizarding Ron nodded towards the two Lunas. "You saw her face when she thought she couldn't use a broom, didn't you?"

"Yes." And he hadn't liked it.

"Can you imagine feeling like that every time Hermione uses some clever spell? Or your kids show off?"

Ron could. That didn't mean that he would. "You seem to have given this a great deal of thought," he said, deflecting the question.

The other man shrugged. "Lavender has a squib brother. We've talked about it, in case it ran in the family. We've got a squib cousin as well."

"Squib?" Ron frowned. "Ah. The counterparts to muggleborns?"

Wizarding Ron snorted. "That was Hermione's explanation, I bet. Yeah, basically a muggle born into a wizarding family. A lot of them are very bitter."

Which was perfectly understandable, of course. "I wasn't born into a wizarding family. I'm not some kid watching my siblings do magic while I can't." He was an adult. Mature. Not an insecure child.

"But can you handle it?" the other Ron asked, staring at him.

"Yes," Ron said as convincingly as he managed. He wasn't sure if he could, actually. But he knew that he would do his best to try.

They stared at each other for a moment longer, then wizarding Ron shrugged. "I guess we'll have to wait and see."

Ron gritted his teeth at the implied judgement. He was better than that. "So, what's between Lavender and Hermione?"

"She didn't tell you?"

Ron forced himself to shrug nonchalantly. "I only know that Lavender was your first girlfriend, before Hermione. It didn't really seem important."

"They were roommates for six years," wizarding Ron said.

"Ah." Ron nodded. "I guess they didn't always get along even before you entered the picture."

"It was more like Hermione hung out with Harry and me, and Lavender with Parvati. They didn't really, uh, mingle."

Ron had gone to a boarding school. He knew how things worked. And from what he had heard about Hermione's time at magic school - little as it had been, all things considered - Lavender and Hermione probably pushed each other's buttons. Or had. "And when you 'entered the picture', things went from bad to worse."

"Not really. We - Lavender and I - broke up towards the end of fifth year, and then I was busy training for the war." The other Ron shrugged again. "She was at the Battle of Hogwarts, but, well… I didn't really care about anything other than killing Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and afterwards…" He trailed off.

"...you thought Hermione was dead."

That earned him a glare before wizarding Ron sighed. "Yes. It took me some time before I could deal with things. I met Lavender again at the memorial a year after the battle. We both had changed - we both had lost friends in the war - and, well… we started talking."

"Ah." That made sense. Not the healthiest way to start a relationship, but not the worst, either. Not that Ron was one to talk about that. "That explains the tension."

"It's been seven years," wizarding Ron retorted with a frown. "They're not teenagers any more."

"But Hermione's returned from death. She's no longer the dead war hero," Ron pointed out.

His counterpart winced. "Don't say that she returned from death. There was only one wizard who managed that in living memory. We don't want rumours about the Dark Arts to crop up."

"Oh." He hadn't considered that. "Alright. Thank you for the warning." That could have been ugly.

"Well, with Skeeter gone, there shouldn't be any real trouble on that front. But some idiot will always spread the worst rumours no matter what you do."

"Will that be a problem?"

"Not really. Most people who matter know better than to believe rumours, and the majority of the rest will follow the Prophet's lead." Wizarding Ron snorted.

"I've heard about the Daily Prophet," Ron said. Not much, but enough to prod his counterpart for more information.

"Oh? Of course you have." His counterpart shook his head. "They were very mean to Hermione. Mostly Skeeter's work, but after Voldemort took control of the Ministry…" He shrugged. "Nasty stuff. We had to read it - you could deduce information from what the Prophet was saying."

"And what it wasn't saying," Ron added.

"Exactly." Wizarding Ron nodded again. "But that's the past. We won't have any problems from the Prophet."

That was both reassuring and concerning, in Ron's opinion. "And from Lavender?"

"What?"

Didn't he get it? "She's your wife, and your ex just returned after being thought dead for seven years."

"But I love her! Lavender, that is!"

That was reassuring to hear. "Make sure that she knows it, then," he told his counterpart.

A white, _glowing and floating_, stag appeared next to them and Ron had drawn his gun and taken aim before he heard Harry's voice - no, wizarding Harry's. "Dinner's ready!"

"Harry must be showing off," the other Ron commented as the stag slowly faded.

"What was that?" Ron asked, reholstering his pistol.

"Patronus Charm. Used against Dementors, but it's handy as a messenger as well."

"Ah." Ron nodded. Wizarding Ron hadn't batted an eye at his gun, he realised. Something to talk about with Hermione, later. "Let's go back, then."

"Go ahead," his counterpart told him. "I'll send a Patronus messenger to Luna."

A moment later, a white glowing translucent terrier appeared. "Luna, dinner time!" the wizard said, and the ghostly animal soared into the sky.

"I think mobile phones are a little more useful," Ron muttered. "And more discreet."

"What?"

"Nothing."

They went back to the house. And found Hermione and Lavender glaring at each other over very toothy smiles.

* * *

_The Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and Scalp Treatment was working as advertised. Her hair was, for the first time in her life, not a barely tameable disgrace. It fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and a few hairstyling charms that hadn't worked before had it done up in exactly the kind of style she had imagined - dozens of attempts to use the charms to tame her hair over the years had finally paid off._

_Now, if only she'd practised the other cosmetic charms she knew as much… Looking at her reflection, she winced. If she went out like this, she would look like a clown. No makeup would be better than this. But if she skipped makeup, she would look… inadequate. The date of a tournament champion had to look their best. Especially as a muggleborn witch - she could already hear Parkinson's needling comments and see Malfoy's sneering face._

_She sighed. She would just have to recast the spells. Again. Sooner or later, they would work as intended, wouldn't they?_

"_Hermione! What are you doing?"_

_She cringed - a little. Lavender. "Putting on makeup," she replied without looking at the other girl - she could see enough in the mirror to know that Lavender was already perfectly styled._

"_You mean you're trying to put on makeup. That's not how you use those charms."_

"_And how do I use these charms?" she snapped before she could control herself - her frustration must have overcome her common sense. The last thing she wanted was a gloating lecture from Lavender._

"_It needs a light touch," Lavender replied at once. "Once it looks like you're not wearing makeup, it's perfect."_

"_That makes no sense," Hermione retorted. "I could just forego makeup in that case."_

_Lavender sighed - a little too dramatically, in her opinion - and drew her wand. "Let me demonstrate." Before Hermione could protest, the other witch waved her wand, and Hermione felt the familiar sensation of makeup settling on her skin._

_And the unfamiliar feeling of envy when she looked into the mirror and realised that Lavender had been correct - she really did look much better than without makeup, but it was so subtle, most people would be unable to tell she was wearing any without being close enough to touch her face. Lavender might not be the brightest witch in Gryffindor, but she knew how to apply cosmetics. Yes, as much as it galled, she had probably saved Hermione's evening and pride._

"_See? Even you can look pretty with a little effort," Lavender told her with a patronising smile._

'_Even you'? Hermione forced herself to return the smile - albeit with more teeth. "Thank you, Lavender. It's such a happy surprise to discover that there are some charms at which you're actually skilled."_

"_Why, it was my pleasure to help. Imagine the embarrassment to our house if I'd let you go out without looking your best."_

_She heard the unspoken 'even if your best is barely good enough by my standards' addition clearly._

"_Why, yes, imagine that."_

_They stared at each other for a moment, then Lavender nodded and turned back to help Parvati get ready._

_And Hermione went to fetch her dress robes. She would enjoy the Yule Ball. And show everyone that she wasn't just a plain bookworm._


	39. Chapter 39: The Minister

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 39: The Minister**

**The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, December 22nd, 2005**

"Thank you, Lavender."

"It was my pleasure, Hermione."

Compared to the polite exchanges between Hermione and Lavender, the meeting in Rye with his own parents which Dumbledore had arranged had been downright harmonious, in Ron's opinion. At least they weren't openly cursing each other - figuratively or literally, in this case.

He cleared his throat. "This roast is excellent, Mrs Weasley." It was - as good as his mum's, in fact. Although it was slightly different as well - which was a good thing. The resemblance was eerie enough already.

"Oh, call me Molly, please!"

"You're pretty much family," wizarding Fred cut in.

"Even if you're a little bit more removed than usual," his twin added.

"A little bit. Though it's nice to know our family is even larger than we thought," wizarding Fred added.

"Indeed. Though we'd have preferred if you'd brought your handsome older brothers with you."

"Boys…" Mr Weasley raised his voice a little and glanced at the kids at the end of the table. Who were not as busy with eating as they should be, Ron noticed - Jean and James were paying rapt attention. So much, in fact, that James' face looked as if he had missed his mouth with his fork every second time due to focusing on the adults' discussion.

"James!" Wizarding Ginny had noticed it as well and swished her wand. A moment later, James's face was clean.

Jean mouthed something to her brother - Ron didn't manage to read her lips, but since James glared at her, it was probably an insult.

"How are things at your department, Percy?" Mr Weasley asked in a quite transparent attempt to change the subject. "Did you manage to settle things with the Scandinavians?"

Wizarding Percy sighed. "Oh, no. They keep complaining."

"Complaining?" Hermione frowned. "About werewolf rights?"

"Not exactly," wizarding Percy replied. "They can't complain about discrimination these days, not after we repealed all the werewolf laws. But since Britain is now amongst the most tolerant countries with regards to werewolves, and we don't have blood feuds as part of normal politics, the Scandinavians have taken to complaining about us 'luring their werewolves away'." He shook his head. "There's nothing we can do about it. We couldn't limit immigration even if we wanted to since they can use muggle means to immigrate, anyway. Not that we would want to limit immigration after the war, of course."

"Oh." Hermione looked surprised.

"The Scandinavians should stop killing each other. That might stop their people from leaving," Mrs Weasley said. "Really, I can't understand how they can stand living like that - war's such a…" She shook her head and started collecting the empty plates.

Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "Indeed. Though our muggle counterparts - I mean, the British government - are a little concerned about the werewolf immigration. The number of wolf sightings has apparently grown so much that the muggles suspect someone has released some wolves into the wild. We've stopped several attempts to hunt them, but poaching might become a danger for those werewolves who like roaming through forests during the full moon."

"And that includes most Scandinavians," wizarding Percy added. "At least we've, so far, been able to enforce the mandatory Wolfsbane Potion requirement."

Werewolves in danger of being poached… Ron shook his head. "How many muggle police officers are aware of that?" he asked.

"None. So far, the muggle government's stance is that all the wolf sightings are merely hoaxes or sightings of particularly large dogs," Mr Weasley told him. "Apparently, they are concerned about werewolf, err, droppings, being found by muggle naturalists."

"Arthur! That's not a subject for dinner!" Mrs Weasley admonished him as she collected more plates.

"They're talking about werewolf poop!" Roger said, a little loudly, which made all the kids start giggling.

"Has anyone tested whether the leavings would register as of wolf or human origin?" Hermione asked.

"I don't think so," Mr Weasley said, frowning.

"I think you should," she said. "If they can be identified as human or some sort of wolf-human hybrid, then that could be a threat to the Statute of Secrecy."

"Really?" Mr Weasley frowned.

"I do hope that we won't be required to regulate werewolf defecation," wizarding Percy commented with pursed lips. "The Scandinavians would complain about that as well."

Ron tried to imagine Parliament debating a law about werewolf poop and snickered. Then he laughed. Soon, most of the others joined in.

The good mood - helped along by a few anecdotes from Mr Weasley - held until after dinner.

* * *

"No! Not sleepy!"

"Please, Mummy! Lemme stay. Take only James!"

"Can we sleep with Gran? Please!"

"Don't wanna go away!"

"No! Noo! NOOOO!"

Wizarding kids could raise the same sort of ruckus as muggle kids, Ron realised after dinner. Fortunately, settling them down wasn't his job - the wizarding families could and had to handle that. So while wizarding Ginny threatened Jean and James with Apparition if they didn't use the Floo Network like good children, and wizarding Fred, wizarding George and Angelina were looking for Beatrice, who had somehow disappeared inside the house - the grandfather clock still showed her as being inside - Ron approached Hermione. "Fancy a stroll around the pond?"

She smiled at him. "That sounds like a lovely idea." He offered his arm just as she added, with a glance to the side, where Roger and Victoire were crying at their pending separation: "Lavender's parenting is getting a little loud."

Ron suppressed his wince at that. Until they were out of the house, at least. "Well, the kids look like a handful. Mum would've blown her top long ago," he commented, watching Hermione out of the corner of his eyes.

She snorted. "Perhaps. Molly - this world's Molly - has a temper. Although she seems more lenient with her grandchildren."

"Isn't that traditional?" he asked.

"I suppose so."

"Something wizards and muggles share, then."

"Muggles and wizards aren't really so different," she told him. "Apart from magic, of course."

That was a big difference, in Ron's opinion. He nodded anyway. "It seems so."

They reached the edge of the pond. It wasn't frozen over, and Ron wanted to ask if there were spells to do that and make it snow. But this wasn't a stroll on the shores of the Black Lake. And he had something more important to discuss. He took a deep breath. "I had a talk with the other Ron."

"Ah." He felt her tense up, a little.

"Yes," he went on, "he didn't realise that Lavender might feel a little… threatened, by your return."

She snorted. "Lavender was always a little insecure while we were at Hogwarts. She couldn't stand my friendship with Ron."

"Well, you did get together later, didn't you?" he pointed out.

"Over a year after he had broken up with her," Hermione retorted. "And yet she's acting as if I'm about to 'steal her man'! At least this time she hasn't tried to threaten me."

Ah. He knew better than to ask how she would have reacted if she had been threatened. "It seems both she and the other Ron don't expect a relationship between a muggle and a witch to last."

She tensed up again. "What? Did he insinuate that I'll break up with you now that I'm back in my own world?"

"Not like that," Ron quickly replied. "He merely mentioned that it would be difficult to live as a muggle in the wizarding world. Or with a wizarding family."

She scoffed. "As if he has any idea about that - he grew up in the wizarding world!"

"He mentioned a squib cousin," Ron pointed out.

"And I bet he hasn't talked to them." She scoffed again. "Magic's the only difference between wizards and muggles - and technology is about as much of a mystery to many wizards as magic is to most muggles."

Ron wouldn't exactly compare technology to magic, not like that - anyone, including wizards, could learn how technology worked and could even, in theory at least, duplicate it, after all. But while Hermione did seem to underestimate the difference, she also didn't seem to consider that much of a threat to their relationship. Which was encouraging, at least. "What about accidental magic from children?"

"That's overblown," she replied. "Most children rarely use accidental magic, and if they do, it's something harmless. Like floating toys, or changing the colour of a pet's fur."

"Ah." That sounded a little less inconsequential than she seemed to think, but far less serious than Ron had, despite his words to his counterpart, feared. He nodded, then noticed she had stopped walking.

"Are you thinking about children?"

Oh. That question he hadn't expected. He should have, of course - Hermione was the smartest woman he knew. "Hard not to, after seeing all the kids today," he said, watching her reaction.

"Oh. I suppose so, yes." She seemed surprised, or so he thought.

"I am surprised that everyone seems to be having kids already," he commented.

"Harry always wanted a family," she told him. "And Lavender probably couldn't wait to become the perfect housewife."

Ah. He hesitated a moment, then remarked: "You seem to dislike her."

She narrowed her eyes at him - he probably hadn't been subtle enough. "She hasn't really changed since our teenage years. And we didn't get along then."

"But you've changed, haven't you?"

She snorted. "Perhaps not in that area. I still don't like her, and the feeling's mutual."

Ah. So much for sorting this out. He decided to change the subject before he hit a landmine. "You know, when wizarding Harry sent that glowing stag after us…"

"Oh, that's a good way to differentiate between counterparts!" She smiled. "I like the name."

"Thanks. Anyway, I was startled and drew my gun. Wizarding Ron hardly reacted," he said.

"Oh. Well, with most wizards, I'd say they didn't recognise the gun. Ron would, though - we talked about them during the war. I guess he doesn't see a difference between a wand and a gun, and since everyone's always waving their wand around…" She shrugged. "Or he didn't want to look afraid in front of you."

Well, Ron couldn't easily dismiss that theory - he would also hate to look afraid in front of his counterpart. Or in front of anyone else with a wand.

They had almost reached the house again. Time to talk about politics and similar problems.

But before they reached the back door, it opened and Luna rushed out, followed by wizarding Luna and the rest.

"Ron! Hermione! We're going to fly for a bit! Everyone's coming! You have to come as well!"

Flying? On a broom? Well, Luna had done it before, so it couldn't be too hard. Or too dangerous. And Ron had watched how wizarding Luna had instructed her as well. "Sure," he said. "We would love to." At the end of the day, who wouldn't want to fly like that?

"Ah…"

Apparently, Ron realised as he saw Hermione's grimace, his girlfriend wasn't overly fond of flying on brooms.

But Luna was already reaching for their hands. "Great! Let's hurry before the others grab all the good brooms! I want the same broom again!" she exclaimed as she started to drag them along.

They didn't beat Sirius to the shed, of course, but Luna managed to make them overtake Harry and Ginny before she released their hands and went straight to for the broom she'd used before. "This one's mine!"

They would probably have to check that she put it back before they went home, Ron realised.

"UP! Up and away!" And there went Luna.

"Which broom would you recommend?" he asked Hermione.

"I'm not an expert," she replied, looking at the remaining brooms with the same expression Ron had once seen on a member of one of the bomb squads.

"We could go back to the house," he suggested, "if you don't feel up to this."

He saw her lips purse. "These ones!" She pointed at a pair of old-looking brooms in the corner. "Cleansweeps are good, solid brooms."

They did look well-cared for, Ron noticed when he picked one up. But he could also see that there were several spots on the shaft where the finish had been worn down.

"They're safe," wizarding Luna told him. "Molly and Arthur would never leave broken brooms where their grandchildren could get at them."

"Ah." Ron nodded - that sounded like his own parents. And nothing he had seen from their hosts so far this evening had contradicted that impression. "Good, then."

"Yes," Hermione added.

"And Hermione can cast a Slowing Charm if anything happens, anyway," wizarding Luna went on.

"Slowing Charm? Like a Featherfall Spell?" Ron asked, before remembering that this Luna would have no idea about D&D, not having played the game with him.

"What? Oh, no! It doesn't conjure a mass of feathers but slows your fall directly. Much less of a hassle to clean up, and you don't have trouble if you accidentally conjure eagle feathers or something - American muggles have the weirdest laws, you know." Wizarding Luna nodded sagely.

"Possession of eagle feathers requires a special permit in the USA," Hermione told him as they left the shed with their chosen brooms in hand. "I found that out while researching magical traditions in your world."

"Ah." He dimly recalled hearing about something similar.

"So, in order to use a broom, you have to call it into your hand. Put it down on the ground - although not into the snow, of course - and call 'up!'," she told him.

He nodded. "I saw Luna do it."

"Ah."

He put the broom down - carefully, of course; he was about to take off on it - and held his hand out. "Up!"

The broom twitched on the floor. Ah, right. He thought of flying. Of soaring through the sky, feeling the wind in his face, free as a bird… "Up!"

The broom leapt into his hand, and he thought he could feel it exert a slight but noticeable force against his grip - like a dog pulling on a leash, to check if you were holding it. He took a deep breath and mounted it.

And the slight force increased, matching his weight as he slowly bent his knees until his feet left the ground and he was straddling a floating broom. Flying. He drew a sharp breath. He was flying.

"Don't pull up too hard," Hermione said, rather quickly. "Steady and gentle - a soft touch is enough. Just keep a tight grip on the broom."

That sounded a little contradictory, in his opinion. But she was the witch. And she had flown before - even though she looked a bit unsteady on her own broom.

He followed her advice and pulled slightly on the shaft.

The broom started to fly forward and upwards at a steady pace - faster than a walk, already. How fast could it go?

He leaned forward, as he had seen Luna do, and the broom accelerated. Oh.

He was flying. He was flying on a magical broom.

Elation filled him as he twisted his body and flew a curve. This was magic. He wasn't casting a spell, but he wasn't just drinking a potion either - he was using a magic item. To fly.

And it felt wonderful.

* * *

Luna was still bouncing on the balls of her feet half an hour later, when they returned to the house - The Burrow - and Ron couldn't fault her. Flying on a broom was fantastic. In more than one sense.

Hermione, though, seemed to be glad to be back on solid ground. Ron suspected strongly that if not for her pride and stubbornness - and possibly her earlier interaction with Lavender - she wouldn't have gone flying.

Being more comfortable than an actual witch with such an archetypical witching device as a flying broom was both amusing and comforting. Which was a little confusing, but there wasn't time to dwell on that. Now that the kids had been sent to bed and the adults returned, it was time to discuss more serious matters.

After dessert, he corrected himself as he entered the living room and saw the spread Mrs Weasley - Molly - had laid out on the dining table. It was a veritable feast.

"Pudding!" Luna - no, both Lunas - exclaimed behind him, and Ron barely managed to pull Hermione out of the way before the two women made a dash for the table.

A few minutes later, everyone was settled - and fed, in the Lunas' case - and things finally did get serious.

"We've settled on a cover story for the years I've been missing," Hermione said. "Amnesia from spell damage and having lived as a muggle until I recovered my memory should sound sufficiently convincing to avoid most inconvenient questions."

"There'll still be rumours," wizarding Ginny pointed out. "The things they spread about Harry and me..."

"That's mostly the work of all the jealous witches who either wanted to marry Harry themselves or wanted to become the Harpies' Seeker," wizarding Ron replied.

"We can deal with such rumours, as long as they're not endorsed by the Ministry or the Daily Prophet," Hermione said.

"Which is the same thing," wizarding Ron added.

"Quite." Hermione nodded. "So, with my cover story settled, that leaves the muggle friends I made while living as a muggle."

"Oh, hiding the truth by telling the truth!" Luna nodded. "Clever."

Perhaps a little too clever, Ron thought. On the other hand, the closer to the truth their cover story ended up being, the easier it would be to stick to it.

"Not many will care about any muggle friends you made," wizarding Percy said. "The real issue is politics."

"Yes," Hermione agreed, though she was pursing her lips a little. "I can imagine that my sudden return might be a little upsetting for some people."

"There aren't any Death Eaters left, and most bigots wouldn't dare bother you," wizarding Ron told her. "Aunt Muriel will probably be the worst you'll face. Of course, that's bad enough..."

"Ronald!" Molly snapped.

"Sorry, Mum."

"I was thinking of our esteemed Minister for Magic," Hermione clarified. And, Ron mentally added, probably of a few of the witches and wizards gathered here as well.

"Kingsley?" wizarding Ginny asked with a frown. "Why?"

"Missing and presumed dead heroes and heroines do not give interviews or talk to influential people to potentially contradict Ministry policy," wizarding Percy explained.

"But…" Wizarding Ginny wasn't the only one eyeing Hermione, Ron noticed. He also noticed that Mr Weasley - Arthur - and wizarding Percy didn't.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know everything I supposedly would have wished to be done," she said. "But I don't think it's inconceivable that I might disagree with some of it."

"We didn't make any changes that you wouldn't have supported," wizarding Ron protested. "We talked about reforms, remember?"

"Yes. And I trust _you_," she replied. "But we didn't really go into the kind of excruciating detail that is part and parcel of actually drafting legislation."

"And the loopholes for the corrupt politicians and their masters!" Luna added, nodding emphatically.

Arthur chuckled at that, though it sounded a little rueful. "The devil's in the details, as the muggles say."

"I believe we should bring Kinglsey into this," wizarding Percy stated, preventing what Ron thought was probably going to be a pointed question from Molly. "He is, after all, the Minister."

"Yes," wizarding Harry agreed.

"But only to discuss my return. He doesn't need to know about the portal," Hermione insisted.

"What?" Ron's counterpart looked surprised.

"He's a friend, Hermione," wizarding Harry told her.

"He was in the Order, like all of us!" Wizarding Ginny looked shocked.

Hermione seemed unfazed, but she pursed her lips. "I know that - that he was in the Order. But I never interacted much with him. And he's been Minister for seven years."

"What do you mean?" wizarding Ron asked.

"All politicians are corrupt to some degree," Luna declared.

"Leaving aside the question of whether or not completely honest politicians are possible," Dumbledore cut in with a smile, "there is certainly a conflict of interest. What is best for Wizarding Britain might not be best for our world - or for Dr Granger."

Ron could see that the comment, delivered without a hint of levity - the old man had a perfect poker face - set the others thinking. Thinking about possibly having to choose between Hermione and the Minister. Ron didn't know whether Dumbledore had planned to drive a wedge between the others and the Ministry or between them and Hermione, but either outcome would mean that Hermione had less support in the Wizarding World and would likely have to rely more on the old man.

And, a selfish part of Ron added, on himself.

He forced the guilt away and focused on the discussion at the table. "But Kingsley isn't Fudge!" Molly protested. "He is an honourable wizard."

"And what is the honourable choice for the Minister, if he has to weigh Hermione's wishes against the country's?" Dumbledore asked. "I am not familiar with local politics, mind you, but I can assure you that we've been taking pains in my world to keep the true nature of Dr Granger's research a secret. Otherwise, the government would most certainly seize it."

"They might even go as far as to press Hermione into service, even if they had to resurrect old naval laws for the purpose," Sirius added. "Of course, the Navy would likely attempt to take control of the portal in that case, no matter how far inland it's located."

Ron snorted - Sirius rarely let an opportunity to take a dig at the Navy pass. But that didn't change that, as Dumbledore had reminded them, they also had to deal with their own government back in their world.

"Kingsley won't curse us in the back," wizarding Ron said. "And he knows how much he owes to us."

Well, it seemed that Ron's counterpart had made his choice already. Not that it was a surprise - Ron had done the same, after all. Twice, if you counted overlooking Luna's various not-quite-legal shenanigans.

"But what about the Wizengamot? Or the Unspeakables?" Hermione asked. "Shacklebolt would have to keep this a secret from everyone."

"That's no more than what we'll all be doing," wizarding Harry replied. "And Kingsley is keeping other secrets as well."

The way everyone from the wizarding world reacted to that told Ron that they had their own dark secrets. But then, he couldn't imagine fighting in a dirty civil war and not having things to hide - if not on your own behalf, then your friends'.

"Everyone has a price," Luna said. "And politicians are used to making shady deals. That's how politics works."

"The Minister still hasn't exposed the Rotfang Conspiracy," wizarding Luna added. "Despite all the evidence Daddy delivered to him."

"Luna," wizarding Harry said, "we've investigated the Ministry, and we haven't found any trace of that conspiracy."

"That means they were warned and managed to hide all evidence. And that happened after we informed the Minister." Wizarding Luna pouted. "It could be a coincidence, though. We'll have to do it again to check."

Ron closed his eyes for a moment, wincing. Why had he ever thought Luna meeting her counterpart might be a good thing?

"Look," Hermione spoke up again, "this is about the need to know. And if we don't want the Ministry to get involved in the portal project, then the Minister doesn't need to know about this." Her tone made it clear that everyone had better agree that the portal wasn't the Ministry's business.

"But do we want that?" wizarding Percy asked. "If the portal gets taken over by someone, it's a major security risk. It could endanger the entire country - or even the world. The Ministry would be completely unprepared for an invasion through a portal. Or a dark wizard building up a power base in another world."

"On the other hand, having control of the portal - or merely knowing about it - will lead certain people to consider such actions themselves. Secrecy is a powerful defence, in my experience," Dumbledore pointed out. "After you vouching for him, I'm sure Minister Shacklebolt can be trusted - but can you say the same for his successor? Or their successor?" He inclined his head. "Governments change, after all. As do policies."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "And trying to control the government to keep it from trying to control the portal is a very dangerous course of action."

"So is keeping the portal secret from the government," wizarding Percy retorted. "And once the secret gets out, a lot of trust will be lost." He looked around the table.

Ron pressed his lips together. He knew what the wizard was insinuating: A lot of people were already aware of the truth. Probably too many, if Ron were honest, to keep the secret indefinitely. But the alternative would have been keeping such important secrets from one's family, and that wasn't a good idea, either.

He snorted, and when everyone looked at him, he explained: "It's our own fault. We're just too big a family."

After a moment, everyone else started to snort and chuckle as well.

The levity was short-lived, though. "So, do we tell Kingsley the truth, or not?" wizarding Harry asked.

"I think Kingsley would understand not being told," Arthur said. "As Minister, he doesn't tell us everything, either. And he knows better than anyone else that the Ministry isn't perfect, and neither is the Wizengamot. Also, there's no law that requires wizards such as spellcrafters or potioneers to announce, much less release, their research. And, unlike with time travel or the creation of magical creatures, there is no ban on portal research. Because, I would wager, no one has ever done anything like it until our Hermione here. Although that's a technicality, and doesn't change that there's no legal requirement to tell anyone about the portal." He spread his hands. "And the precedent it would set - I can safely say that the Wizengamot would oppose any law that would require inventors and researchers to reveal their projects to the Ministry."

"They wouldn't repeal or oppose a law that would force just me to do so, though," Hermione said. "Especially if they knew what I was doing."

Arthur didn't contest that. But he had voiced his opinion, and Ron could see most were nodding in agreement, following the wizard's lead.

Well, just like at home - Dad didn't shy away from doing what he thought was correct. Even if that might require his considerable expertise in loopholes and technicalities.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 22nd, 2005**

Mr and Mrs Granger weathered their first trip through the portal quite well, in Ron's opinion. They stumbled a bit, but they didn't look sick. Unlike everyone else he'd seen use it. Had the fact that they had grown up in a world with magic, even though they weren't magical, affected them? Or Hermione's birth? Perhaps they had some magic genes.

"Dad! Mum! Are you alright?" Hermione was at their side as soon as she had finished closing the portal.

"We're fine," her mother replied, steadying herself. "It's no worse than Apparition."

"And considerably more comfortable than a Portkey," Mr Granger added. "So, this is your laboratory."

"Yes!" Hermione smiled widely at her parents. "Well, technically, I don't own it, but it's here that I created the first working portal."

"And we're at the same location where we left, just in this world?" Mrs Granger asked.

"Yes, though there's a small vertical difference. Magic compensates, though. We're in the basement of an old resort at the Black Lake."

"Near the ruins of this world's Hogwarts?" Mr Granger cocked his head.

Ron saw Hermione frown in response. "Technically, yes. Though from what I can tell - we didn't examine the ruins thoroughly - the castle was much smaller and fell into ruins centuries ago. So they aren't really comparable."

"Kind of like The Burrow and my home," Ron commented. "Sort of - it's not as if The Burrow is in ruins."

"Without magic keeping it together, it would be, I bet," Mr Granger said.

"Do you live there?" Mrs Granger asked.

Ron shook his head. "I've got a flat in London."

"Which he rarely uses." Ginny had to cut in. "He spends more time at Grimmauld Place than there."

Ron rolled his eyes. He had spent more time there during their teenage years than Ginny - until she and Harry had gotten together, at least. And probably had done so again, once her career had taken off and she had started going on the WTA Tour.

"Anyway, I'd show you the guest quarters, but Mr Dumbledore has to set things up first," Hermione told her parents.

"We can't be seen by the government agents stationed here, right?" Mrs Granger said more than she asked.

"Yes." Hermione nodded apologetically. "But it's only for a night. Tomorrow, we'll return to see Shacklebolt."

Ron didn't like the possible implications of that. Did that mean Hermione saw the other world as her home? Duh, of course she did - her parents and friends lived there. She had grown up there. And… He shook his head. No, he was probably just overthinking things.

And here came Dumbledore and Grindelwald. "Additional guest quarters have been prepared," the former spymaster told them with a friendly smile. "And the path is clear, so to say."

Grindelwald, who's expression was much more guarded, nodded. "Be careful nonetheless," he cautioned them. "You can't trust the Secret Service." Dumbledore laughed out loud at that, followed by a thin, sardonic grin from his partner, so it was probably an old joke between the two old men. They were correct, though - with MI5 involved, they couldn't even easily contact their families and this world's Grangers to tell them that the portal was now working. "I heard you're meeting with the head of your government tomorrow," the German went on.

"Yes. Minister Shacklebolt," Hermione confirmed. "He won't be told about the portal, though."

"Not by you, at least."

"I trust my friends!" Hermione retorted.

"Do you know the saying 'trust but verify'?" Grindelwald shook his head. "But as long as your cover story lasts until we've finished our own business..."

"That will be taken care of right after Shacklebolt," Hermione told him with a deep frown.

"Good."

"Gellert is a little impatient. Quite understandable, seeing as he is stuck here and cannot follow us to watch our progress in person," Dumbledore said.

Grindelwald scoffed at that but didn't contradict his partner. "We're not getting any younger, are we?"

"No, but I expect to grow much older than previously expected," Dumbledore replied.

"Not unless you start eating more healthily."

"Touché." Dumbledore laughed again before turning to address them: "But don't let us keep you standing here when you could be catching up with Dr Granger in much more comfortable environs. I would loathe having you think we force her to sleep in her laboratory."

"We had to force her to stop doing that, actually," Luna said. "I think she had a bed in her lab in London."

"And enough MREs to eat for years," Ron added with a grin.

Hermione was actually blushing as she frowned at them. "I was focused on finishing my research as fast as possible." Still, she clearly knew that they had a point.

"Oh, I can imagine!" her mum exclaimed.

"And we're grateful," Mr Granger added. "Very grateful."

Both of them hugged Hermione again.

And despite his fears about the future, Ron was happy seeing it.

* * *

**The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, December 23rd, 2005**

The Minister was late. That wasn't a surprise - one couldn't expect the leader of a country to clear his schedule for a few hours unless it was an emergency. Especially if one was trying to keep the reason for the extended meeting a secret, and it was the day before Christmas Eve. It still raised Ron's hackles. He preferred it if things went according to plan.

And waiting any longer certainly wasn't helping Hermione to stay calm. She was biting her lip so hard, Ron wouldn't be surprised if she hurt herself.

"It'll be alright," he said as encouragingly as he could manage.

Judging by the way she narrowed her eyes at him, he hadn't been encouraging enough. Or convincing enough. "Really? So you didn't have to come 'just in case'?"

Ah. Perhaps he had been a little too insistent. "Well, with me here, of course." He grinned at her.

She huffed in response and dropped the magazine she had been reading - or looking at for five minutes without turning a page - and grabbed another. "If he recognises you…"

"That's what the cover story about being a distant Weasley is all about," Ron replied. "And if he doesn't believe it, it would be better to find that out as soon as possible, and not after we're already invested here," he repeated an argument he had made a few times already. He didn't tell her that the real reason he wanted to be present for this meeting was that he wouldn't accept staying hidden while Hermione met other wizards and witches. He wanted to be part of all of her life, not some secret she kept from her wizarding friends.

She huffed again but didn't contradict him.

Ron picked up the discarded magazine - Witch Weekly? Really? - and started to skim it. Until he hit the main article titled 'The Minister on Witch Issues'. Which had a full-page picture of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The Minister for Magic was an impressive looking man. Tall, broad-shouldered, stylishly dressed, for a wizard - and black.

Ron hadn't expected that. Wizarding Britain, as Hermione had described it and the few parts of it he had personally seen, had always seemed to be a more archaic and slightly fantastical version of Britain. One which included the deeply rooted racism and classism he was familiar with. Hell, they had had to fight two wars against wizarding Nazis who wanted to murder everyone not born to the right families.

He glanced at Hermione as he commented, in a casual tone: "I didn't expect that."

"Hm? What?" She looked up.

He held the magazine up. "A black Minister for Magic." Oh, the jokes Sirius would make once he heard about this.

She blinked. "Oh! I completely forgot about that. Skin colour doesn't matter nearly as much in the wizarding world as it matters in the muggle world. The Shacklebolts are an old, distinguished pureblood family in Wizarding Britain."

That sounded crazy. Especially with a name like 'Shacklebolt'. "And yet, the Death Eaters wanted to kill all muggleborns?"

"Yes." She shrugged. "They claim to care about magical ancestry more than anything else, of course, but it isn't as if they were anything but hypocrites - there were several half-bloods amongst them, including Voldemort himself."

He nodded - but he also took note of the fact that the new Minister came from an 'old, distinguished pureblood family'. If he were a muggle, he'd be a member of the upper class. Probably nobility.

Before he could ask about that, the fireplace across the room flared up, and a tall, black man stepped out of it, followed by Mr Weasley.

He had been forewarned - he didn't look shocked upon seeing Hermione. Though his eyes went wide anyway. "Miss Granger…"

She nodded. "Minister."

* * *

"_I hate this," Harry complained again._

"_We know. But it's necessary," she said, watching him pace as she sat in the only armchair in the room that let her keep an eye on the door. They were in the middle of the Ministry, but as they had been taught: You had to stay on your guard. Even surrounded by friends and supposed allies._

"_It feels fake." He tugged on the sleeve of his new dress robes - cut to look like duellist robes. "This is fake."_

_She didn't roll her eyes. Sometimes, Harry's attitude could really grate. "It makes you look dashing," she told him. "And that will help get your message across."_

"_My message?" He scoffed. "The Ministry wrote my speech for me! They might as well just take one of my hairs and use Polyjuice Potion to replace me with an actor!"_

_That was because Harry's attempt to write a speech had been pathetic. Her friend was one of the bravest boys she knew, a talented wizard and quite charismatic, but a speechwriter he wasn't. She wouldn't tell him that, though - she and Ron had done so already, and Harry hadn't taken it well. Instead, she said: "Dumbledore approved the text." As had Hermione herself - but she wouldn't mention that either. "And it has to be you - people know you." Like those wizards and witches who had already finished their education after spending years with Harry at Hogwarts._

_He scoffed. "Politics!"_

"_Yes. Something we cannot let Voldemort use against you. Not again. And the Ministry needs you. Now more than ever." What with Dumbledore slowly dying from a dark curse. _

"_I know," he replied, grinding his teeth. "But…"_

_He trailed off, and she stared at him until he sighed and looked away._

_Good. They really couldn't afford to mess this up. Scrimgeour needed their support - for all his faults, he was determined to oppose the Dark Lord with everything he could bring to bear. Dumbledore had confirmed that._

_And he would get all the help they could deliver, too._


	40. Chapter 40: The Mistake

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot, despite the trying times we're currently going through.

* * *

**Chapter 40: The Mistake**

**The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, December 23rd, 2005**

The Minister shook his head. "Arthur and Harry told me, though I didn't want to believe it. Nobody had been able to find any trace of you, and after seven years..."

Neither Shacklebolt nor Hermione moved to embrace the other, Ron noted. They hadn't been close before her disappearance.

"That's because I had left the castle," Hermione replied. "You would have needed a Seer to find me, not that Divination is reliable." She nodded at Ron. "This is Ronald, a distant relative of the Weasleys."

"Ah, you're a muggle, yes, Arthur told me about you."

"Minister." Ron nodded at him. He didn't like the man's attitude.

"We're still looking into it," Mr Weasley - Arthur - said, "but we haven't found records old enough to determine how we are actually related."

"The resemblance is there, though," Shacklebolt commented with slightly narrowed eyes. Had the wizard seen through the disguise? He was a former Auror, after all, Ron knew. And one of the best, according to Hermione and her wizarding friends. And he had been the Prime Minister's magical protection detail - not a man to underestimate.

"Let's sit down, shall we?" Mrs Weasley said as she entered the room carrying a tray with tea and snacks.

They sat down on the couches, not at the dining table, which had been reduced to a more normal size - for a Weasley family. Mrs Weasley - Molly - conjured some side tables for everyone, to Ron's slight disappointment; he had hoped for floating cups and dishes.

"I was filled in by Harry and Ron," the Minister went on after taking a sip from the excellent tea. "They've confirmed your identity."

"They did, yes," Hermione replied. "They were understandably suspicious."

"It is a fantastical story. How exactly did you manage to leave the castle?"

"I used a damaged Vanishing Cabinet and ended up with amnesia in the middle of a field owned by a muggle." Hermione grimaced. "At least that's what I think is the most likely explanation."

"I thought that you recovered your memory." Shacklebolt steepled his fingers.

"I recovered most of my memories - but of the day of my disappearance, I still only have fragments," she explained. "I don't even know if it was the Cabinet, a curse or something left in the room that caused it. I do think the Cabinet is the most likely cause, though."

"And how did you recover your memories?"

"Gradually, at first." She looked at Ron with a smile. "I started a relationship, and, well, I began to mix up memories of Ronald and my friends. One day, he said something just like Ron used to say, and all my memories returned."

"Ah." Once more, the Minister stared at Ron.

"I was terrified when she collapsed." Ron went with the prepared story. "And I have to admit that when she told me about magic, I thought she had lost her mind." He forced himself to chuckle - it wasn't really a lie.

"Fortunately, we - Harry, Ron and myself - had prepared caches with spare wands and supplies during the war, so I managed to get a wand and demonstrate that I wasn't crazy," Hermione said, reaching out to hold Ron's hand.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to simply visit Diagon Alley?"

"I didn't want to risk entering a country possibly ruled by Voldemort. Certainly not without a wand," Hermione replied.

That seemed to surprise Shacklebolt. "But surely you would have noticed attacks on muggles - they made the muggle news during the war…"

"Yes. But Voldemort was no fool. If he had started to oppress the muggles to a degree that I would have noticed as a common muggle, then the ICW would have intervened. It was entirely possible that he had simply taken control of the Prime Minister, as he had controlled your predecessor, and was biding his time." She shook her head. "I couldn't risk it. Not as one of Wizarding Britain's most wanted witches."

"Well, we set that right first thing after we took the Ministry back." Shacklebolt laughed. "You're still one of Wizarding Britain's most famous witches."

"I saw the statue. And I met my portrait," Hermione told him with a frown.

"You don't like them?" Once more, surprise was visible on the wizard's face.

"I wouldn't like to be remembered like that," she said with a polite smile. "Fortunately, I can do something about that, now."

Shacklebolt's smile slipped from friendly to polite as well, Ron noticed. It seemed that the Minister wasn't happy about the implications of her statement. "What do you have in mind? As far as I know, the portrait was quite faithfully instructed by your best friends."

"I've no doubt that they did their best," she replied, "but they were also most certainly still affected by our experiences during the war at the time they did it." She shook her head. "I just want to set the record straight."

Now the Minister started to frown. "Do you disagree with the historical records?"

"I don't know yet - I haven't had the time to look them up," she told him. "But more points of view, different perspectives, are a good thing, aren't they?"

"Of course," Shacklebolt agreed - though his smile was a little too open to be honest, in Ron's opinion. Politicians, in his experience, didn't like most views that differed from their own. "Are you thinking of entering politics? You were quite the activist as a teenager if I remember correctly."

"Oh, no! I was living as a muggle for seven years - I'm so out of touch with everything and everyone, I don't think I'm qualified to work in the Ministry." Hermione waved her hands.

"Well, a position in the Ministry is yours for the asking - the country owes you a debt, after all. Helping you readjust on the Ministry's Galleons is the least we can do for a war heroine."

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm not hurting for money. And my family comes first."

Shacklebolt nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

Ron wanted to tell the wizard that that was a given but held his tongue.

"I'm planning to," she said. "I just wanted to meet you so you're not caught unaware by my return."

"Ah. I appreciate that."

"We've been discreet," Arthur added, "but some rumours have already started circulating, I think."

"I was seen by two Aurors in Hogsmeade," Hermione elaborated.

"Ah. I did hear something about that," the Minister said.

"I was still dealing with my recovered memories, so I basically fled the scene before I had a breakdown," she went on.

Molly nodded in obvious sympathy. "It must have been a shock."

"It was. I realised that everyone thought I had died. I knew that that was likely, but only in an academic sense. Seeing my statue there…" she trailed off, shaking her head.

Ron wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

The Minister nodded. "I see. I will arrange things so you aren't bothered by the press while you're still adjusting - if you would like that."

"Thank you. I don't want to make a spectacle out of this."

"Of course not."

Shacklebolt was smiling in a slightly patronising way, Ron noted. Probably happy that Hermione wasn't charging the gates of the Ministry to take over or something.

* * *

"...and then I jumped into the Vanishing Cabinet, and things went, well, wrong."

Ron reached out and gently squeezed Hermione's hand as she finished telling Shacklebolt over lunch how her part in the Battle of Hogwarts had ended.

"I see. And then you found yourself in muggle Britain, wandless and with amnesia?"

"Yes. Although while I didn't know why, I still knew that I was in danger - that I was a wanted woman. So I didn't go to the police."

"Ah. We had been keeping our eyes out for reports of obliviated muggles," Shacklebolt commented. "The Death Eaters were fond of muggle-baiting."

"I can imagine," Hermione replied with a deep scowl.

"We put a stop to that, of course."

"I've heard. You must have filled Azkaban." Her scowl didn't vanish, Ron noted.

"Most of the Ministry had been helping Voldemort," Shacklebolt replied. He wasn't smiling any more.

"To what degree? I heard you sent Skeeter to Azkaban."

"She was directly responsible for some of the most effective propaganda against muggleborns, which contributed greatly to their persecution."

"I was one of her victims before Voldemort took over - I'm familiar with her 'work'," Hermione said. "However, she was always careful with her wording - using quotes and questions rather than direct claims - or direct lies."

"That didn't change the effect of her articles. And she knew what she was doing," Shacklebolt said with a frown. "She also served as an example to others - a demonstration that the times of 'subtly' spreading Voldemort's poison through euphemism and veiled words were over. We cannot change the people's minds if we let the bigots spread their ideology unhindered."

"Being punished to serve as an example seems like a political decision. Not a judicial one," Ron spoke up.

Shacklebolt looked surprised - Ron hadn't said much during lunch. Had the wizard forgotten about him? Because Ron was a muggle? "I've worked in law enforcement," Ron added.

"Ah." Shacklebolt looked at Hermione again as he replied: "Bigotry was and is a political problem. We failed to solve it after the first war, which caused the second war, with all its horrors. We weren't about to make the same mistake a second time."

"Some principles should be above politics," Hermione commented.

"Yes. Such as the right of everyone to live," Shacklebolt retorted.

"The ends don't always justify the means."

"Sometimes they do."

The two stared - no, _glared_ \- at each other for a moment, before Molly interrupted them. "Who wants pudding?"

* * *

"Bye, Kingsley! You must visit more often, and without such a pressing reason," Molly said fifteen minutes later, as Shacklebolt and Arthur left The Burrow again. As soon as they had vanished in the fireplace, the witch sighed, though, and turned towards Ron and Hermione. "That could've gone better."

Hermione set her jaw, Ron noticed. "A position in the Ministry, but for the asking?" She scoffed. "I know a bribe when I see one. He just wants my support for his policies."

And the Minister hadn't been as subtle about it as Dumbledore had been, in Ron's opinion.

"Of course he wants your support," Molly said as she flicked her wand and the dishes on the table started to float towards the kitchen. "You're a war heroine. Your word carries weight."

Hermione snorted at that. "My legend carries weight. But I myself? Any influence I have will quickly vanish once I start disagreeing with Ministry policy."

"Didn't you say that you don't know anything about the Ministry?" Molly asked with a frown. "Most of the reforms were ideas you agreed with - I remember your visits over summer. Like the elves being freed."

Ron imagined a teenage Hermione lecturing people and smiled at the thought.

Hermione grimaced slightly. "That's certainly a reform of which I approve," she said. "And I'm the last person to defend Death Eaters - but Azkaban still being staffed with Dementors?" She shook her head. "That's torture."

To her credit, Molly winced at that. But she rallied quickly. "What would have been the alternative? Killing every criminal? Having half the Ministry's trusted employees working as prison guards? You know how many people were killed, and how many helped the Death Eaters. Kingsley is doing what he can to change things. And he's been at it for seven years."

"And I've been away and out of touch for seven years," Hermione retorted, "and don't know anything."

"I didn't say that!" Molly replied, in a tone Ron recognised - there was the temper he had expected.

"Sorry," Hermione said after a moment. "But that's what it feels like. Everyone seems to expect me to go along with everything. It's as if they didn't know me at all."

"Everyone missed you, dear. And they don't realise yet that you have grown and changed in the years since your disappearance. As have they."

That caused Hermione to purse her lips. "I know that they aren't teenagers any more. So I expect others to realise that about me."

"They will," Ron told her. "But it'll take some time."

"My friends, yes. But I've never been particularly close to Shacklebolt," she replied.

"He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix," Molly told her. "He risked his life fighting the Death Eaters."

"We all did," Hermione replied.

"Well, I didn't," Ron pointed out with a grin. Which faltered a little when he noticed Molly and Hermione wincing.

"You fought Russian spies and special forces," Hermione said, "and saved me from them."

"You saved my life," he told her, smiling at her.

"And now both of you are safe," Molly interjected. "Also thanks to Kingsley's efforts."

Ron wasn't sure he'd agree with the older witch - about being safe.

"He didn't do it alone, though, did he? Harry, Ron, Arthur and Percy helped, didn't they?"

"Of course they did!" Molly replied. "We had to win the peace as well as the war."

"That sounds like something Dumbledore would say," Ron pointed out. Although he couldn't say if the old man would mean it.

"He did - well, our Dumbledore," the older witch confirmed. "In our last meeting before he…" She swallowed. "Before he died."

"I don't remember that," Hermione said, frowning.

"He might not have said the same things to everyone - he visited the different cells, to help prepare us for his death." Molly sniffled slightly. "He was such a brave man, facing his death without fear. 'Death is but the next great adventure', he said."

Now that was something the Dumbledore from Ron's world would never say - or, if he did, would never mean, in Ron's opinion.

"Which reminds me - we need to buy potions and other supplies," Hermione said.

"Oh? Of course!. Do you need money?" Molly offered. "We're doing well - Arthur was promoted quickly, you know - the Ministry's run so much better under Kingsley."

"The cache had enough Galleons to make the necessary purchases, I believe," Hermione told her. "Money shouldn't be an issue."

Ron nodded. Dumbledore had very deep pockets, after all - and would pay a premium for magic potions.

"Are you sure? You don't have an income yet," Molly said.

"We'll be fine," Hermione told her before turning towards the fireplace. "Let's go to Diagon Alley," she said, pulling out her wig.

* * *

**Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, December 23rd, 2005**

Floo travel might not be as uncomfortable as Apparition, but it wasn't smooth by any means, Ron couldn't help but think as he stumbled out of the fireplace in what Hermione had told him was the Leaky Cauldron. He managed to avoid falling down, fortunately - that would have been a bad entrance.

As he straightened, the fire flared up behind him, and he turned in time to see Hermione stepping out of the fireplace as if she were passing through a door. "It gets easier with practice," she said as she flicked her wand and the slight traces of soot on his shirt and trousers vanished.

"I'll take your word for it," he replied, eyeing the crowd in the inn They didn't look particularly friendly, but not nearly as hostile as the guests in some of the London dives he had visited back home. And none of them seemed to have seen through their disguises. Although that old woman in the corner… He looked at Hermione as she took his arm, then glanced at the witch.

"That's a hag," Hermione whispered as they walked towards what looked like the back exit.

A hag? A cannibal? In an inn? "Aren't they dangerous?" And would bullets hurt them?

"They aren't as bad as their reputation makes them out to be," Hermione replied, "and they aren't allowed wands, which is quite discriminatory, but I would be very wary around one of them if I were vulnerable or hurt."

"Ah." That didn't sound promising. It looked as if this inn was more like the Mos Eisley cantina.

But the hag didn't move before they entered the backyard and came face to face with a brick wall.

Hermione hesitated a moment, then tapped half a dozen of the bricks in sequence, and the wall flowed out of the way, forming a gate.

It seemed to be a rather complicated way to enter the main shopping district of Wizarding Britain, in Ron's opinion, but it would definitely keep out muggles.

"Diagon Alley," Hermione announced. "The heart of Wizarding Britain's economy."

"It looks like they'll need a pacemaker," Ron quipped before he could help himself - there were far fewer people in the Alley than he had expected, especially on the day before Christmas Eve.

Hermione chuckled at his joke. "It's a small country. It does get packed in August when every family goes shopping for school supplies."

"I guess they already did their Christmas shopping, then," Ron replied.

"Some might save it for tomorrow. But I think that with the students home from Hogwarts, many families will take longer meals, so they'll probably start arriving soon. I'm certainly looking forward to dinner with my parents." She glanced at him. "Our dinner with my parents."

He nodded with a smile. "So… where do we go first?"

"Ollivanders."

"And what does he sell?" Ron asked as they entered the Alley proper, passing a family all dressed in near-identical robes who seemed to be a little nervous upon seeing them. A little like many people who unexpectedly met a police officer.

"Wands. The wand I had in the cache isn't a bad match - I picked the most compatible from the ones we looted - but I want a wand that is a perfect match. And Ollivander is the best wandmaker in Britain."

"Ah." That made sense.

The sign above the door Hermione led him to announced that the Ollivanders had been making 'fine wands' since 328 BC. "That's quite a claim," he said.

"I used to plan to check the claim," she told him with a wry smile. "I wanted to look up the records in the Ministry."

"Well, a call to Shacklebolt would likely be enough for that."

She snorted. "Don't you start!" She pushed the door open.

The room inside was dark, rather small - or, to be precise, it wasn't extended as Ron had expected - and stuffed with small boxes. He couldn't see Ollivander or anyone else, though.

Then the door behind the counter opened, and an old man with thin, white hair that reached his shoulders stepped through. "Welcome to Ollivanders."

"Good afternoon," Hermione replied, bowing her head. She raised her wand. "I need a new wand. A better match than this one."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "Ash and dragon heartstring. Nine inches, not particularly springy. I sold this wand to Dexter Flint, years ago."

"And I took it from his corpse during the war," she replied.

Ollivander's eyes briefly widened. "Who are you? You look familiar…"

"You sold me a vine wand with a dragon heartstring. Ten and three-quarter inches."

The old man grew stiff. "I've only ever sold one such wand."

Hermione looked over her shoulder, then pulled off her wig. "Yes. To me. The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. But I lost my wand, and I need a replacement."

"You've been missing for seven years," Ollivander told her. "And now you return in disguise?"

"My friends and the Ministry have been informed. I don't want to spoil the big announcement," she replied.

"And we want to shop in peace," Ron added, "without drawing a crowd or creating a spectacle."

For a long moment, the wandmaker stared at them - at her. Then he slowly nodded.

"Let's see which wand matches you." He seemed to squint at Hermione for a moment, then turned away. "Pine, perhaps?" A flick of his wand had a case floating towards him. "With a unicorn hair core."

"My old wand was vine wood with a dragon heartstring," Hermione told him again, though she held out her hand anyway.

"That was almost fifteen years ago. As you change, your wand changes - or the wand which suits you," Ollivander replied. "Try it."

Hermione flicked the wand, frowning at the light that started to shine from its tip, and Ollivander took it away. Another case appeared next to him. "Pine and dragon heartstring."

The light was marginally stronger, as far as Ron could tell.

"Not pine, then. It seems you aren't as mysterious as you appear."

Hermione snorted. "I'm not mysterious. I merely value my privacy."

"Ebony, perhaps. I think the dragon heartstring suits you still." A new case was opened.

The light was a little stronger still, but it was obvious that neither Hermione nor Ollivander were satisfied.

"Not quite," the wandmaker proclaimed. "Ah! Walnut! You didn't take to it last time, but perhaps…" He summoned another case.

This time, Hermione's eyes widened as soon as she picked it up, and the light was noticeably brighter - bright enough to make Ron look away.

"As I thought. Walnut, ten inches, slightly springy, with a dragon heartstring core. A great but dangerous match," he said with a faint smile.

"Dangerous?" Ron asked. Could wands explode?

"Walnut will work as easily for a noble purpose as for a terrible one. And wands containing dragon heartstring are the ones most likely to serve a dark wizard. That will be fifteen Galleons, Miss Granger."

"Fifteen?" she asked.

The old man merely nodded, and Hermione paid. "Thank you, Mr Ollivander."

"It was my pleasure. I'm looking forward to seeing what you might achieve with this wand."

"So am I, Mr Ollivander."

The old man had all but ignored him, Ron realised. Had he known that Ron was a muggle? Sensed it? Or had he seen through the disguise, and had mistaken him for wizarding Ron, the famous Auror? Ron couldn't tell.

Once they were outside the shop, with Hermione once again in disguise, Ron looked around for any eavesdroppers, then commented: "He didn't seem to be overly concerned about the wand."

"Almost all British wizards use wands crafted by him or his ancestors," she replied. "Voldemort used one of his wands, as did most of his followers. It hasn't kept him from crafting wands that will fit a dark wizard."

"Ah." He thought for a moment. "He seemed to imply that wands have a will of their own."

"Yes." She frowned a little. "I haven't looked into wandlore enough to be able to confirm or disprove his claim. It could be true - I certainly have seen stranger things in the magical world - but it could also be superstition."

It was his turn to snort. "Superstition among wizards and witches - that sounds weird."

"We're humans. Humans are prone to see patterns everywhere, and while that helped us a great deal in understanding nature, it also created a lot of superstition."

That sounded logical. On the other hand, magic wasn't very logical, in Ron's experience. "So, where are we going now?"

"The Apothecary," she said. "I need a few potions. I do hope they sell them there - if not, we'll have to visit Knockturn Alley."

"That's the bad part of the Alley, right?" She had mentioned it before.

"It was when I was at Hogwarts. It might have changed - but I doubt it," she replied.

He nodded. And noted, to himself, that she hadn't asked her friends if Knockturn Alley had changed. So she didn't want them to know about this. If they had to go there in the first place, of course.

As they walked down the Alley, Ron had the impression that there were more people out and about than before - and many of them not wearing robes or cloaks, but trousers and coats. Not very magical, in his opinion. Until they passed the entrance to a wider than normal side alley. The area here was practically deserted. "Knockturn Alley, I presume," he said.

"Yes."

He glanced at it. It looked a little darker. Dingier. And the shops he could see didn't have bright displays - most had sturdy walls and small, dark windows. "Not exactly inviting."

"It isn't. Most people live there because they can't live and work elsewhere - for a variety of reasons."

Most of them bad, he guessed. But they had reached the Apothecary, and he dropped the subject.

* * *

**Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, December 23rd, 2005**

"...and that'll be fifty Galleons, ten Sickles and five Knuts," the sales clerk - or should that be saleswitch? - announced after ringing up Hermione's purchases up on an antique-looking register.

Ron watched her as Hermione pulled out her purse. No question about whether they'd pay with a card or cheque, of course - Wizarding Britain didn't use such means of payment. Cash only. Coins only, to be precise.

As Hermione started to count out the Galleons, the other witch's eyebrows rose slightly - was she surprised that they had the means? Fifty Galleons was a hefty sum, Ron had found out, even though the economy of Wizarding Britain was so different that just going by the exchange rate at Gringotts would be misleading.

And they weren't wearing expensive clothes - not even robes. Just comfortable casual muggle clothes.

"...and five Knuts," Hermione finished counting out the sum and pushed it over to the clerk. "Here."

"Thank you! Please come again!" the other witch replied with all the honesty of a used car salesman who had suddenly realised that a customer was actually not wasting their time by asking for the most expensive vehicles.

"These should last us a while," Hermione told her with a nod. "But I'll be sure to return once I need to buy more."

As soon as they had left the Apothecary, her polite smile vanished. "Fat chance of that," she muttered. "I'll brew instead of buying."

"Oh?"

She glanced at him. "I was among the best in our year in Potions. Their stock isn't bad, but I could do better."

"I wasn't doubting you," he explained. "Just wondering why you bought the potions in the first place."

"Because I don't have the laboratory needed to brew potions yet, and brewing in bulk would take a significant amount of time - probably longer than Grindelwald's patience would last." She snorted and added: "And I'm a little out of practice, too, of course."

He nodded - that made sense. "So, we've got all we need to fulfil our part of the bargain?"

"Not quite." She frowned as she tapped her beaded bag. "The potions here will take care of most of Dumbledore and Grindelwald's ailments, but in order to significantly extend their life expectancy, they need potions that the Apothecary doesn't sell."

He raised his eyebrows. "That sounds a little illegal."

"Yes." She frowned again. "Ricklestorf's Restoration Potion. It's restricted because brewing it requires very rare ingredients - St Mungo's is supposed to have the whole supply available to treat certain dark curses that sap a victim's health."

"And that potion can rejuvenate people?"

"Technically, no," she told him. "But it'll strengthen your body for a while - with rapidly diminishing returns as you take further doses."

"I can see how that would lead to restricting its sale." Rich people would pay a fortune. And they'd need even more of the potion for even smaller gains...

"Yes. Any vial is worth a fortune on the black market. As are the ingredients."

"That means Knockturn Alley."

She nodded. "I wouldn't trust anyone there to sell us a genuine potion - they don't know us, so they won't fear retribution should they cheat us, and they might even suspect us of being undercover Aurors on a sting operation. But the ingredients? I should be able to buy them. At least the ones I'm missing."

"You have such rare ingredients already?"

"Phoenix feathers," she replied. "Dumbledore's - the Headmaster's - companion, Fawkes, was a phoenix and so we had a supply of them. To sell them for gold, if we needed the money."

"Ah." He imagined a phoenix getting plucked, and had to suppress a chuckle. You'd need gloves made from asbestos, probably. Or a whole suit.

They had returned to the entrance to Knockturn Alley by now, and Hermione entered it without the slightest hesitation. Ron gritted his teeth as he walked with her. Hags. Vampires. And Dark wizards. Its reputation might be overblown, but he doubted that it was by much. And while he hadn't been here before, he had been in similar areas in his world. Places where you didn't want to be recognised as a plainclothes police officer unless you had backup.

This Alley felt the same, just populated with wizards and witches. He blinked as he noticed something. They were now a little further in, where the locals were walking. And all of them were wearing robes. Very much unlike Diagon Alley, where the majority of the passers-by had worn normal clothes.

And judging by the looks of the locals he could spot, they were all aware of the fact that Ron and Hermione weren't wearing robes. And their sunglasses probably weren't very inconspicuous, either.

Damn.

"The locals don't like us," he muttered.

"I noticed," she replied, glancing around, judging by the way her head moved. "Fortunately, they don't have to like us to do business with us."

Ron met the eyes of either an ugly witch or a not so ugly hag, and they glared at each other for a moment before the woman bared her teeth - yellow, and rather sharper than a human's - and looked away. Had she been able to see through his shades, or had she just been posturing? He couldn't tell. "I think some of them disagree with you," he commented, fighting the urge to draw his gun and fire a few warning shots.

"We're not going to do business with them - just with a shop or two." Hermione scoffed. "And they would sell their own mother for enough gold."

"Well, you're the expert," Ron replied, staring at a wizard in a dark cloak who quickly entered a side alley.

"I haven't been here in over seven years," she said. "But some things don't change."

That didn't sound as reassuring as she probably had intended, Ron noted. "We could leave and return later with better disguises," he suggested. And probably a few more people.

"No, it's not far, and I doubt that they'll start anything in the middle of the afternoon. They didn't dare in my time, and I doubt that the DMLE has grown less effective since then."

He couldn't resist. "'In my time'?"

She snorted and said with a grin: "It's a figure of speech."

"Commonly used by old people."

"Sometimes I feel old," she replied.

He didn't have an answer for that, and before he could think of one, she turned. "Let's go. The sooner we're done, the sooner we're gone."

"Alright."

He still couldn't help feeling as if he would be shot - cursed - in the back at any moment, and then they reached a decrepit-looking shop. The windows were so dirty, you couldn't look inside - something the owner must have intended. And there was a faint stench in the air...

"'Penny's Potions'," Hermione said. "Not as infamous as 'Borgin and Burkes', but still a shady shop."

"I'm feeling better and better about this," Ron commented. It was as bad as the time he and Harry had posed as criminals for a meeting with drug smugglers. He hoped that this would end better.

She pressed her lips together and pushed the door open. "Ew."

The smell - no, the stench - hit Ron's nose a moment later, and he couldn't help groaning in response.

"Oh, sorry!" Hermione flicked her wand, and the stench disappeared. "Bubble-Head Charm," she said, "it'll keep gases and smells out."

"Thank you." That would have been incredibly useful several times in his and Harry's career. But if they hadn't smelled the petrol, they'd probably have died in that affair in the East End.

He shook his head and focused on their surroundings. The store was, once again, not any bigger inside, and crammed full of shelves - there wasn't enough room to push a shopping cart through. And the things on the shelves…

"Penny's the best when it comes to animal parts," Hermione told him.

"Indeed, I am," a raspy voice said from the curtain behind the counter. "And I see my reputation has even spread to muggleborns." The cloth slid to the side and a hag appeared, yellow teeth bared in a crooked smile. "Welcome to my shop."

Ron felt a shudder run down his spine. The hag looked as trustworthy as a drug-addicted politician.

"Good afternoon," Hermione replied. Ron merely nodded.

"What brings the likes of you to such a disreputable shop? Are you, perhaps, looking for the kind of goods that aren't sold elsewhere? Exotic and rare goods?"

"Yes," Hermione told her. "I need a unicorn horn."

"It's illegal to sell anything but unicorn hair, and even that's restricted to licensed specialists and wandmakers," Penny told them.

"The 1981 Magical Creatures Preservation Act only forbade the sale of newly harvested body parts. Unicorn horns aren't perishable goods. I'm looking for a horn harvested before it became illegal to do so."

Penny cackled. "That was changed four years ago, dearie. It's now illegal to sell any unicorn parts no matter their age. Been out of touch for a while, hm?"

"I left during the war," Hermione told her.

"Really." The hag's lips drew back in a toothy, leering smile that made Ron shudder.

"Yes."

Hermione and the hag stared at each other for a moment.

"And you're willing to buy one anyway," Penny said.

Hermione cocked her head and shrugged.

"Restricted goods are very expensive. If there were any for sale, that is," the hag added.

"Yes." Hermione patted her beaded bag. "Money is no object."

The hag's smile turned into a sneer as she stared at them, misshapen eyes flicking back and forth between Ron and Hermione. "You know what they say about offers that you can't refuse?"

"No?" Hermione cocked her head again.

"They're usually poisoned," Penny hissed. "Get out! I'm not selling to Auror stooges!" she yelled.

Ron drew a hissing breath. This was bad.

"We're not Aurors!" Hermione protested, taking a step forward.

"Let's leave," Ron told her. "Now."

"What?" She turned to him.

"I said get out, Aurors!" Penny growled. "I don't do business with your kind!"

"Look, we just need…"

"Let's go!" Ron hissed. "Now!"

"But…" Hermione looked at the hag once more, then shook her head. "We're going."

"And don't come back!" the hag yelled after them.

"That could've gone better," Hermione said once they were outside.

"Yes," he replied. "But we're not out of the woods yet."

"What do you… oh."

There were four people staring at them, two in the entrance to a side alley across the street and one at each of the two corners on either side of them. He might not be an expert on magic, but he knew an ambush by thugs when he saw one.

She grabbed his arm. "Let's just apparate!"

Ron braced himself, but nothing happened.

"Anti-Apparition Jinx," Hermione muttered - and Ron saw their wands come out from under the ruffians' robes.

"Watch out!" he yelled, throwing himself to the side a moment before a red spell hit the wall behind him. He rolled over his shoulder and drew his gun as he came up. The wizard at the corner was still moving his wand around when Ron shot him twice in the chest. The man stared at him, mouth open as his wand fell from his fingers, and he started to collapse.

Then the entrance to the side alley across the street vanished in a cloud of smoke and dust. Rock splinters and a few cobblestones landed near him.

Damn. Ron turned - there was a fourth thug at the other corner. But the ruffian there was gaping at them, his wand pointing at the ground. Ron aimed. "Drop your wand!" he yelled.

Before the man could react, a red spell hit him, and he dropped to the ground.

Ron looked around. As the dust was settling, he could see that the entrance to the side alley had been turned into a small crater. One body was at the foot of the wall to the left, under a red smear. The other was a torn mess at the top of the crater.

No more threats.

Hermione shook her head. "Let me dispel the Anti-Apparition Jinx. Then we'll be off." In a lower voice, she added: "This is a disaster."

He nodded in agreement. This was a fine mess.

Then he heard footsteps. Someone was running towards them. Two figures came round the corner, wands up. Aurors.

He aimed at them out of reflex but didn't shoot. They were police officers.

One of them started to yell: "Department of Magical Law Enforcement! Drop…"

A red spell hit her, and she dropped in mid-sentence. The other Auror dodged to the side.

Then Hermione grabbed Ron's arm, and he felt as if he were squeezed through a narrow metal pipe.

* * *

_She saw the Auror patrol pass below them, down in the Alley. They were looking left and right as they walked, but not up. _

"_Not the best and brightest, are they?" Ron commented._

_She glared at him - they were on the roof, three stories up, but they could still be overheard._

"_Oh, calm down, Hermione," he went on in a whisper. "Those are rookies. They can barely hold their wand the right way. Tonks told us about the recruitment drive, remember?"_

_She did. But that had been a year ago. Those below might have more experience. And they were now working for the enemy - the Ministry had been taken over._

_And, she thought as she clenched her teeth, many of their employees had been quite eager to enforce the latest anti-muggleborn laws. They could take them out easily - they outnumbered the patrol, and they could cut across the roofs to ambush them, as soon as Harry's conjured snake got back with the book they needed. A few minutes at most, and Voldemort would lose two wands._

_But those Aurors could also be among those who weren't bigots, just too ignorant or stupid to realise what had happened. Hermione didn't think the Death Eaters would send their most eager recruits to Knockturn Alley to patrol in the middle of the night - that was usually reserved for those who'd earned their superiors' displeasure._

_On the other hand, stupid or not, they would enforce those evil laws either way. And it wouldn't help any of the muggleborns they might catch that these Aurors weren't bigots._

_She pressed her lips together. No, there was no reason not to attack these two. "Once Harry's done, we'll take them out. Two fewer wands in the Dark Lord's service."_

_Ron seemed surprised for a moment before he nodded. "Right."_


	41. Chapter 41: The Meetings

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot, despite the increasingly crazy times we're going through.

* * *

**Chapter 41: The Meetings**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Wizarding World, December 23rd, 2005**

They appeared at a familiar spot in the woods - right in front of the portal. Ron quickly checked their surroundings before he reloaded and holstered his pistol. "That could've gone better," he said.

"If we'd let the Aurors arrest us, they'd have seen through our disguises," Hermione replied. She looked shaken, though - and she hadn't holstered her wand. "The hag would've told them all about my attempt to buy a unicorn horn. She was probably in league with the thugs."

He frowned. The ambush had seemed a little too organised for a mere spur-of-the-moment assault. On the other hand… "But would she have sent them after us if she thought that we were undercover Aurors?"

He saw her press her lips together and frown as well: She agreed with his reasoning but didn't like being wrong. "It wasn't an assassination attempt, at least - if it had been, they would've struck as soon as we left the store. And they also would've brought more attackers, I think."

"A random robbery?" That didn't quite sound believable.

"I think they might've been motivated by more than just greed," Hermione said.

Ah. "Purebloods attacking muggleborns?"

"It's possible. I'm sure you noticed that there were no obvious muggleborns in the Alley."

"Yes." And the Alley had seemed poor. Such areas could easily breed violence against foreigners - or muggleborns, in this case. "We should've asked around before entering the Alley," he said.

She pursed her lips. "I should've considered that things might have changed. In my time, there were as many muggleborns and half-bloods as there were purebloods in Knockturn Alley. More, once the bigots took power. But if I had asked Harry and Ron, they would've realised that I planned to go there."

"They'll know that we were responsible," he told her. "A man and a woman, one of them using a pistol? I don't think there'll be many possible suspects."

"We were in disguise," she retorted.

"That won't help. It might be enough that they can't prove it, but they'll know." Ron and Harry's counterparts weren't stupid.

She closed her eyes and winced. "That's exactly what I wanted to avoid. I just wanted to brew the potion and conclude our deal, so we don't owe Dumbledore and Grindelwald anything any more."

"Without your friends knowing the details of what you were planning to do."

"Yes," she spat, then wiped her eyes.

He pretended not to notice. After a moment, he asked: "How do you think they'll react?"

She bit her lower lip. "I don't know. They agreed to hide the portal from the Ministry, but this..."

"Well, we didn't kill or hurt an Auror. We killed the robbers, though."

"That was self-defence," she replied. With a scoff, she added: "And I don't think that the Ministry cares a lot about the lives of Knockturn Alley criminals. It didn't before, and it doesn't seem as if things have changed - just the sort of people trapped in the Alley."

"But you don't know for sure."

"No, I don't," she admitted with a sigh.

"Well, I think we'll need to discuss this with the others. Including Dumbledore."

He didn't like it, but it seemed like it was the best choice. And Ron's world was outside the jurisdiction of Wizarding Britain.

Hermione nodded in agreement.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 23rd, 2005**

"...and then we came here," Hermione finished. "I've got the potions that will deal with most of your health issues, but without the unicorn horn, I cannot brew the potion that will effectively prolong your life."

Dumbledore ran a hand over his short beard. "That's an unfortunate complication. Although I don't think there's been too much harm done. You were attacked by a group of criminals and defended yourselves. And, still caught up in the fighting, you panicked and overreacted when the Aurors arrived. I'm sure your friends will understand."

It was a good story. A judge would buy it, Ron was sure - especially after all they had gone through.

Hermione, though, didn't seem convinced. "It's not about the fight. It's about buying restricted ingredients. I should have gone to France for this. Or Prussia."

"Prussia?" Grindelwald spoke up.

"Magical Prussia. Magical Germany was never united," she explained.

"Oh. Does that mean we never lost the Eastern Territories? East Prussia, Silesia, Posen?" The old man looked even more eager than he had when Hermione had mentioned the potion she wanted to brew.

"Not to my knowledge. Although a lot of those areas never became part of Prussia, either - Magical Poland was never partitioned," Hermione replied.

"Oh." Grindelwald frowned at that, while, or so it seemed, Dumbledore hid a grin.

"While German geography is fascinating, I think we should focus on the matter at hand," the old spymaster suggested.

"Yes," Ron agreed. "How do we handle our magical counterparts?" They needed a plan before the wizards and witches arrived at the portal.

"I don't want to lie to my friends," Hermione said. "And I think they'll understand."

"But you're not certain," Grindelwald countered. "And you'd prefer to not tell them everything, wouldn't you?"

"Our deal doesn't concern them," she replied.

"I don't know if they would agree," Dumbledore commented. "You did attempt to break the law, as you said."

Hermione winced, then pressed her lips together. "We did worse during the war."

"But you're not at war any more. At least your friends aren't." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and put his elbows on the table.

"They'll understand," Hermione repeated herself.

Ron hoped that she was correct.

"We should close the portal until we're ready," Grindelwald suggested. "Otherwise, Miss Lovegood will once again attempt to 'show our world to her twin', as she put it."

"She did?" Ron blinked. Last he'd heard, Luna was with wizarding Luna visiting the latter's father - and their menagerie.

"Miss Lovegood is rather spontaneous," Dumbledore said, "and her counterpart seems to be cut from the same cloth. Although I managed to convince her that she should coordinate any extended trips with Dr Granger, if only to be sure they won't encounter unanticipated difficulties."

That wouldn't stop Luna forever, of course.

Hermione shook her head. "We can't close the portal. They might overreact to that."

"Or move in to secure the site," Dumbledore added. "We have to assume that they are aware of the portal's location by now. I think we should act preemptively and contact your friends."

Hermione sighed.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Wizarding World, December 23rd, 2005**

Compared to the last time they had met Hermione's friends, the situation felt noticeably tenser, Ron couldn't help but notice as they approached the meeting spot. Hermione was a bundle of nerves, he could tell. And Ron himself wondered what he'd do if things went from bad to worse, and it came to a fight. Could he shoot Hermione's friends? Could Harry, who was covering them from the next cove?

Hell, this reminded him of the set-up of that disastrous meeting with Bones in the park. Bloody hell - now he was nervous as well.

"It's a nice afternoon for a stroll, wouldn't you say? Despite the occasion, I mean."

Dumbledore, of course, wasn't - or was able to hide whatever he really felt. The old man acted as if this was, at most, a pleasant detour. Well, that would only help them. Or so Ron hoped.

"No one's hiding under a Disillusionment Charm," Hermione whispered as they approached the small cove. "Although I wouldn't be able to detect Harry if he uses his Cloak."

"Right." So they couldn't be sure that they were alone. Ron put his hand near his gun again.

"We're a little early, I believe," Dumbledore told them, making a show of checking the time.

"Better early than late," Hermione replied. She looked around, then waved her wand, and a bench appeared out of nowhere. Conjured.

"Thank you, Dr Granger," Dumbledore said. "I'm not as spry as I was ten years ago."

Hermione's curt nod mirrored Ron's reaction - that reminder was a little too blunt for Dumbledore. Which meant, of course, that the old man had wanted it to be blunt, but Ron couldn't think of a reason for that.

Before he found one, he heard the sound of Apparition, and two men - wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron - appeared about ten yards away from them.

"Harry. Ron," Hermione greeted them.

Ron suppressed a wince - it was obvious that she was feeling guilty.

And judging by the way the two wizards nodded, they had noticed. "Hermione," wizarding Harry said, "you wanted to talk to us."

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "We got into a fight in Knockturn Alley."

"We gathered," Ron's counterpart told her. "I mean, we didn't know, but… A couple, man with a firearm, woman with a wand, taking down four thugs and two Aurors?"

"One Auror," Ron pointed out, "and that was an accident."

"An accident?" wizarding Harry asked, raising his eyebrows.

Ron shrugged. "Reflex - we'd just been ambushed, then someone suddenly appeared screaming at us…"

"I panicked," Hermione said. "But I only stunned her."

"Right. And why did you panic?" wizarding Harry asked.

"We were in a fight," Ron told him, narrowing his eyes.

"It didn't have anything to do with the attempt to buy a unicorn horn?" the wizard asked.

"We need one," Hermione explained. "And it's not as if we're about to go poach one, now are we?"

"Of course not," wizarding Ron said, though he sounded less than a hundred per cent convinced, at least to Ron.

"And why do you need a unicorn horn?" wizarding Harry asked.

"Ricklestorf's Restoration Potion," Hermione replied.

"But that requires… Oh. You still have the feathers," wizarding Ron blurted out.

"Yes."

Wizarding Harry frowned. "That's a restricted potion."

"I'm not planning to brew it in Britain," Hermione replied. "It's not restricted in the other world."

"But you were planning to buy a unicorn horn here - which is also restricted."

Hermione pressed her lips together, which was answer enough.

"I believe we'll find alternate sources," Dumbledore cut in. "Dr Granger was merely a little too hasty in her attempt to provide me with assistance."

Both wizards looked at the old man. "Ah," wizarding Ron said. "You put her up to this."

Well, he wasn't entirely wrong.

Hermione, of course, disagreed. "No!" she retorted sharply. "_I_ offered them the potion."

"So they'd keep your families safe and help you build the portal." Wizarding Harry shook his head.

"I would say that it was an added incentive," Dumbledore said - his smile hadn't changed at all. "Although there was never any question of letting the Russians get their hands on her."

And didn't that have a nasty alternative meaning?

"I made the offer," Hermione repeated herself, glaring at just about everyone except Ron. "We made a deal."

"You didn't mention the potion when we talked about this," wizarding Ron pointed out. "Just some Healing." Hermione didn't reply. She was pressing her lips together and frowning. "You could've asked us for help," he went on in a softer voice.

"You're Aurors. You're not supposed to break the law," she told them.

"And you're supposed to?" Wizarding Harry frowned like Harry did, Ron noticed, not for the first time.

"I don't work for the Ministry."

"We kind of expect everyone to abide by the law," wizarding Ron pointed out, "not just Ministry employees. Although they were usually the worst criminals, to be fair."

"We did worse than buy restricted ingredients during the war."

"Attempting to buy ingredients," Ron corrected her. Everyone but Dumbledore frowned at him, so he shrugged. If his counterpart could crack a bad joke, then so could he.

"But there isn't a war going on any more," wizarding Harry said.

"Not in Wizarding Britain, perhaps." Hermione scoffed. "But we were engaged in a veritable war in the other world. Dozens were killed in the last attack."

"Well, officially, it was an attack by 'foreign criminals', but no one with the necessary clearance would doubt that it was an attack on British soil by Russian military assets," Dumbledore commented. "Some would even call that an invasion, I believe."

In response, both wizards glared at the old man. "And you need that potion for your war?" Wizarding Ron scoffed.

"I'm a very old man," Dumbledore told him. "As is my partner. If we die, the Grangers and Weasleys, as well as Mr Black and Mr Potter, will be left without support and protection. More importantly, though, I have no doubt that Her Majesty's Government would quickly take control of the portal - or attempt to do so - for a variety of reasons and purposes, not all of them beneficial to other worlds."

"Even with that potion, you won't live forever," wizarding Harry pointed out.

"But long enough to arrange things so that our deaths won't cause too much of a problem for Dr Granger and her extended interdimensional family." The old spymaster's smile widened. "What amounts to buying an antique made of ivory is a rather small affair in comparison, is it not?"

Well, some members of Greenpeace probably considered it a crime against humanity, or so Ron had been told by Percy. "And I don't really believe that all the unicorn horns St Mungo's uses for their stocks of that potion were that old," Ron added. Wizards or muggles, that wasn't how such things worked.

The two wizards didn't like hearing that - Ron could tell from the glares aimed at him and Dumbledore. "You could've asked us for help, Hermione! It's not as if we'd arrest you!" his counterpart exclaimed.

"I'm sorry. I just..." She shook her head again, and Ron heard her sigh. "I just wanted to finish this quickly, without dragging you into it."

Wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron exchanged a glance and a wince, Ron noted. He saw his counterpart open his mouth, then hesitate before saying: "You don't have to do everything by yourself, you know? I'm sure we've told you that before."

Hermione nodded, sighing again. "I know. Just… I'm sorry."

And they hugged. All three of them. He could see the tension drain out of Hermione - she must have been really worried about her friends' anger over this, Ron realised.

But he also realised, seeing their glares over Hermione's shoulder, that they blamed Dumbledore for this.

And Ron himself.

* * *

"So I'll have to travel to Prussia," Hermione said a few minutes later, seated on another conjured bench. "Berlin's Alte Strasse has a reputation as a trade hub for Eastern Europe."

"What about France?" Ron asked.

"They passed stricter laws since the war," wizarding Ron said. "Prussia's your best bet - well, Scandinavia might work as well, but they don't like us right now."

Right. They had mentioned the werewolf issue, Ron remembered.

"And it's all legal, as long as you don't brew the potion in Britain," wizarding Harry added.

Ron glared at the wizard. Hermione already knew that she had messed up. Well, so had Ron himself.

"Yes."

"Prussia… Gellert would love to visit, for old time's sake." Dumbledore was looking out at the lake as he spoke, Ron noted.

"Out of the question!" wizarding Ron snapped. "If anyone recognises you - either of you - it'll be an international incident!"

"Really? Our respective counterparts are both dead, are they not?"

"Grindelwald still has followers in Prussia," wizarding Harry said. "If a rumour starts that he is alive - or has returned from death, like Voldemort…"

"Some idiot would try to start a revolution," Ron's counterpart finished for his friend.

"Ah. That's unfortunate." Dumbledore sighed.

Even though Hermione looked surprised herself, Ron was sure that the old man had been aware of that already. Somehow.

Ron shrugged and changed the subject. "The Aurors were quite quick to show up," he said. "I thought Knockturn Alley wasn't patrolled that often." At least that had been Hermione's experience, as she had shared with him.

"Oh." His counterpart shrugged. "Someone called them when they saw the thugs following you. They didn't want a dead muggleborn in the alley - that tends to lead to more trouble for everyone there since the Aurors aren't gentle when investigating a possible hate crime."

Ah. Ron nodded - he knew what the wizard meant. And… he glanced to his side. Yes, Hermione didn't like it. At all. He knew her well enough to judge that frown's meaning.

She didn't voice her thoughts about that, though. "We still need a discreet Healer, too. The potions I bought will deal with a lot of ailments, but not everything."

"Yeah," wizarding Ron said with a frown, "if they recognise their patients…"

"Well, I wouldn't expect many to recognise Gellert, seeing as his counterpart was left isolated in prison for decades until he died, but I fear my own counterpart was a little too much of a public figure for the same obscurity," Dumbledore said.

"Don't count on Grindelwald not being recognised," wizarding Harry retorted. "Prussia published pictures of his body in an attempt to disprove the rumour that he had escaped his prison following Dumbledore's death."

Hermione frowned. "I didn't know that."

"It happened after the war," the wizard told her. "The rumours had been going around for some time."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Ron's counterpart nodded. "In some countries, our victory over Voldemort was seen as a successful revolution against the Ministry. That caused some trouble."

"Technically, it was a successful insurgency - we were fighting the Ministry," Hermione pointed out. "In any case, do you know a Healer we can trust not to betray us? Or who would not mind being obliviated?"

"The latter would be preferable," Dumbledore added. "Everyone has a price, after all, and you cannot betray a secret you do not know."

"We can't exactly ask someone if they mind being obliviated," wizarding Ron said, shaking his head. "That's the same as telling them that we have something to hide, and since your return will be announced tomorrow…"

"...they'll make the connection." Hermione frowned, biting her lower lip.

Ron nodded. They would already be under scrutiny, and if rumours about shady dealings started up...

"Do you need their consent?" Dumbledore asked, raising his eyebrows. "I didn't think that that was a requirement when you removed a muggle's memory."

Both wizards frowned at the old man, who merely kept smiling politely. "It's legal when done to protect the Statute of Secrecy," wizarding Harry said. "But there are no laws that cover doing so to protect the secret of the portal."

"Well, I was tasked by Her Majesty's Government to protect the secrets of my country using any and all means at my disposal, if necessary." Dumbledore cocked his head slightly to the side. "While I have since retired from service, an argument could be made that, absent other options, even as a civilian, I have to do what has to be done to protect my country. And that certainly covers keeping news of a potential invasion route from spreading to potential invaders."

Wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron blinked at the old spymaster. "That's…" Ron's counterpart started, then shook his head. "...twisted."

"The end doesn't justify the means," wizarding Harry added with a glare.

"Unless it involves the Statute of Secrecy?" Dumbledore's smile grew a little wider.

"It seems only fair to respect another world's laws," Ron couldn't help pointing out.

"Planning to obliviate someone without their consent after they have healed you isn't remotely fair," wizarding Harry retorted.

"It's also for their own protection," Hermione added. "But, in any case, do you have a better solution?"

"We could ask Madam Pomfrey," wizarding Ron suggested. "She knows her stuff and she won't betray you."

"Unless forced to by magic or other means," Dumbledore said. "If you trust her, then others will know that she might be your favourite Healer, and plan accordingly."

"She's at Hogwarts - the school provides good protection," wizarding Harry replied.

"Unless a Dark Lord like Voldemort wants to break in," wizarding Ron said. His friend frowned at him, and he shrugged. "Hey - just being fair."

Wizarding Harry shook his head. "Aren't you planning to cast the Fidelius Charm anyway?" he asked Hermione.

The Fidelius Charm?

"It's an option I've been considering," she replied. "But it's a little more complicated than merely hiding your home. I don't even know if it works across dimensions." She looked at Ron and Dumbledore. "The Fidelius Charm protects a secret - absolutely. It's most often used to hide a house from anyone not privy to the secret."

"Saved my family during the war," wizarding Ron added. "The Death Eaters couldn't find them. Dad told me that one time they were standing right by the fence - didn't even hear the twins' taunts."

"That sounds like a very useful spell," Dumbledore commented. He was likely wondering, just as Ron was, why they hadn't heard of it before.

"It's not without its drawbacks," Hermione told him. She sounded a little defensive. "Apart from not knowing whether it works across dimensions, the wording of the secret is very important, and the spell is very difficult to cast - especially if it's a secret known by many people. And once you have cast it, only one person can reveal the secret to others. They can write it down, so you can show it to others, but that creates potential problems of its own. And if they die, everyone in the know becomes a Secret Keeper."

It didn't look like Dumbledore considered those hindrances to be significant drawbacks. Ron wasn't sure if he disagreed with that stance.

But he was more concerned about the fact that Hermione hadn't told him about this spell.

"But even if we can use the Fidelius Charm, we still need a Healer now. And I don't want more people to know about the portal," she went on. "Not even Madam Pomfrey."

"You can't lure a Healer through the portal and then obliviate them," wizarding Harry stated.

"But it would be fine if it were a muggle?" Hermione retorted. "You could hire a muggle healer to help a wizard, and then obliviate them afterwards?"

Wizarding Ron and wizarding Harry exchanged a glance. They didn't look happy. "That's because of the Statute of Secrecy," Ron's counterpart replied. "You know how the ICW reacts if they think it's threatened."

"I'm aware of that," Hermione told him.

For the next few seconds, no one said anything. Then Dumbledore spoke up: "I'm certain we'll find a way to acquire the services we need without breaking any laws which you're bound to enforce," he said.

"How?" wizarding Ron asked.

"We're still working on that." Butter wouldn't melt in Dumbledore's mouth.

That didn't improve the mood of the two wizards.

"So…" Ron's counterpart broke another brief period of silence. "What now?"

"Since it's getting a little chilly, I think we should return home. If Dr Granger has the time, I think this would be a good opportunity to inform the Grangers of our world, as well as the Weasleys, of recent events." The old spymaster inclined his head. "It would lift their spirits in time for Christmas, I believe."

Hermione jerked a little. "Of course - we haven't contacted them yet because of the surveillance, but if I apparate and use a Disillusionment Charm…"

"You'll have to be very careful, though, to avoid being spotted by any of the observers," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Of course."

"So… we'll see you tomorrow then?" wizarding Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"Just don't get into another fight with an Auror patrol, alright?" Wizarding Ron's laugh at his own joke sounded a little forced to Ron. But it served to further ease the tension.

After a brief exchange of nods with Ron and Dumbledore, and another hug from Hermione, the wizards disapparated.

And Hermione sighed. "That could've gone better."

"It could've gone worse, too," Ron pointed out, then tapped his radio. "We're done, Harry."

"I figured," his friend replied. "About time - it's getting cold here."

"Yes. Let's go back to the portal," Ron told him.

Before the wizards returned and spotted Harry.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 23rd, 2005**

"So you think we should hire a Prussian Healer?" Hermione asked as soon as they had stepped through the portal.

"I do believe that's a solution that will satisfy everyone," Dumbledore replied.

"Harry and Ron won't like it."

"But I think they'll accept it. After all, obliviating a German wizard on foreign soil doesn't break any British laws, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. But it's a technicality at best," Hermione said.

Ron shook his head. "It's more than that. It's a question of jurisdiction. If they care about enforcing the law, they have to care about the limits of their jurisdiction."

"Exactly," Dumbledore agreed. "And I do believe that they don't want to prosecute you, so they shouldn't have a problem with such a solution."

"It's not just a question of jurisdiction," Hermione retorted. "It's also a question of trust. I broke their trust by going into Knockturn Alley behind their backs. And now this..."

"I don't think you're expected to report everything you do to them," Ron told her, refraining from adding a more pointed comment.

"I'm also not expected to stun Aurors," she retorted.

"That was an accident, as we have established," Dumbledore cut in.

Harry snorted at that, shaking his head.

"If they want to have a say in what you do, they should help you," Ron said. "More than they are doing."

She sighed. "We're friends, not business partners. It's not supposed to be like that."

"You haven't seen each other for seven years. It'll take some time to grow used to each other once more," Dumbledore said. "However, we should now plan how to meet your respective families without alerting our friends from MI5."

* * *

**Ottery St Mary, Devon, Britain, December 23rd, 2005**

"Your parents haven't arrived yet," Ron said, looking at the patch of grass in front of his parents' home that served as a parking space for visitors.

"It'll take them another hour to reach Devon," Hermione said, lowering her binoculars. "I don't see any surveillance."

"It's MI5. You wouldn't," Ron told her. "They're good."

"Better than CI5?"

He frowned as he glanced at her. "Hey now!" She kept looking at him. Almost smirking. "I'd say in the same league," he said. "Depending on who got tasked with it, of course."

"Ah." She sounded a little doubtful.

He shrugged. "They're in the house on that small hill there."

"How do you know?"

"It's the only house with a good view of ours," he explained, "and it's for rent. And close enough that whoever's there has a chance to intervene in time, should anyone try to attack the house."

"A chance."

He shrugged again. "Mum and Dad won't want them inside the house. And their home is quite safe - Harry and I did some work on the security system. Panic room and everything."

"Oh. And they won't be under surveillance inside?"

"Not unless MI5's people sneaked in and planted some bugs." Which they might have done - Ron had done that sort of thing on similar assignments. "Dad should be checking for them, but…" Dad might not have the same gear as CI5 - or Phoenix Gruppe's special department - had.

"So we need to check for bugs, too, before we reveal ourselves." Hermione sighed. "I could use a spell, but that would be noticed if there were any bugs, since it would cut out all sound."

"_I_'ll look for bugs before _you_ reveal us," he corrected her with a grin.

She rolled her eyes at that but had no comeback. They couldn't just apparate into the house, even if Hermione had been there before. So sneaking in it was. "I feel like a teenager again," he said, chuckling. "Sneaking home after having stayed out too late and hoping I don't get caught."

"As long as you didn't borrow your father's car to take a trip to Little Whinging to break out Harry, you should be fine."

His counterpart had done that? Ron shook his head. "Sirius would have helped us sneak around. In fact, he did so several times." Which was the reason Mum and Sirius didn't get on so well with each other.

"I can imagine."

He didn't have to look at her to know she was pursing her lips. Smirking, he nodded. "Let's go then. Invisible, we can easily reach the back door without anyone being any the wiser." And he knew the codes to get them through the security.

"Alright." She raised her wand, and, for a brief moment, Ron felt as if he were drenched in cold liquid. Then he realised that he couldn't see his own body any more.

Neat.

Another wave and Hermione vanished as well. A little groping around and then they were holding hands so they wouldn't lose each other while making their way to his parents' home. Well, Hermione could use a spell to track him, but he would be lost. And he appreciated the gesture.

They made good time to the edge of the patch of land that went with the house - and where Ron and Harry had installed the first sensor. He pulled out a remote and entered the code without being able to see the pad. Which was easy until he started thinking about it. He managed anyway. "Alright."

He led her through the garden to the back door, where he pulled his phone out and texted Dad.

_Go out back for a few minutes, and leave the door open behind you._

To Dad's credit, he didn't hesitate. Ron heard him call out: "I'll just get a bit of air before the Grangers arrive, dear."

Half a minute later, the back door swung open, and Dad stepped out on to the porch.

Ron let him pass them, then pulled Hermione with him as they slipped inside. He let go of her as soon as they were indoors and started to scan for bugs.

He didn't find any bugs, and Dad had lowered the blinds, so MI5 wouldn't be able to listen in by using a laser microphone aimed at the windows. Good enough for Ron.

He returned to the living room, where Dad was sitting in his favourite armchair, and spoke up: "We should be safe from being overheard."

Dad jerked, startled, and looked around. "Ron?"

"Yes. We're invisible," Ron replied.

"Disillusioned," Hermione corrected him, startling Dad once more.

"Ron?" Mum arrived in the doorway, still drying her hands with a towel.

"Yes," he said. "Hermione?"

"Finite Incantatem."

He didn't feel anything as the spell faded - if not for his parents' gasps, he would have had to look at himself to notice the change.

Hermione faded into view without any incantation, and the grin on her face confirmed his suspicion that she had spoken aloud for effect. She probably hadn't forgotten his parents' scepticism at her claims when they had met for the first time.

"Dear Lord," Dad said, staring at them. "I take it that you managed to open your portal?"

Well, Ron thought as he noticed Hermione's brief surprise, Dad's always been quick on the uptake.

"Yes, we did," she confirmed. "We've already met with my friends and family." With a sigh, she added: "All this time, they thought I was dead."

"And they thought you were an impostor." Ron nodded. "Our first meeting was a little tricky."

"'Tricky'?" Dad raised his eyebrows.

"Ron, you didn't!" Mum was less discreet.

"I didn't shoot anyone," he replied, a little annoyed. "And neither did Harry. Or anyone else."

Now Hermione was raising her eyebrows as well.

He rolled his eyes. "I once happened upon a shooting just before a family dinner and didn't want to spoil the mood by telling them about it. It delayed my arrival until dessert, you know."

"Ah." Apparently she shared his parents' opinion of that particular decision.

"Anyway," he went on, "the Ministry will reveal Hermione's return tomorrow. It'll be a big event."

"My name and reputation as a dead heroine have apparently been used to quite some effect in wizarding politics," Hermione elaborated with a frown.

"Oh no!" Mum shook her head. "Against your will?"

"That remains to be seen," Hermione replied. "I haven't researched the matter yet."

"Ah."

Ron's parents exchanged a glance, then Dad spoke up: "So, what are your plans now?" He looked from Hermione to Ron and back, to emphasise what he meant.

"Sorting out matters in my world and here," Hermione replied, "so you and my… the Grangers can stop living under police protection."

Ron had heard less evasive answers from criminals in interrogations, but Dad nodded.

Mum, of course, didn't. "Where will you be living?"

"That hasn't been decided yet. With Apparition and the portal, I can easily commute to work from anywhere in either Britain."

Mum seemed ready to push her, but Dad spoke up before she could: "Your family here would be hurt if you cut off all contact with them."

"I know," Hermione replied. "I'm not going to do that." She sounded a little too annoyed, though, for it to be quite that simple.

And they hadn't even touched on their own relationship. Ron and Hermione's, that was.

"I'll go and fetch the others now."

* * *

"Gabriel! Ellen!" Hemione greeted the Grangers - who weren't carrying any surveillance devices, Ron had checked - with more exuberance than usual, at least in his opinion, as she hugged them. Guilty conscience, perhaps? He added another subject to their upcoming talk.

"Hermione!" Mrs Granger smiled at her with obvious relief.

"How are you doing?" Mr Granger asked with a similar expression to his wife's.

"Oh, I'm doing well," Hermione replied. "We've opened the portal. Look!" She drew her wand and demonstrated a few transfigurations - on his family's best china. Fortunately, Mum managed to control her temper and didn't ruin the moment for the Grangers, but Ron caught her checking every cup and plate afterwards - and replacing them with new pieces.

Well, he couldn't fault her for that. Not after seeing a teacup turn into a mouse in the middle of the table. He foresaw a lot of disinfectant being used on the furniture, too. Later, of course, so she wouldn't appear rude.

The Grangers, though, were properly appreciative of the demonstration of magic. And Dad was taking notes even though he had seen a similar demonstration - although one that hadn't involved their china - half an hour before. The others had seen magic - more impressive magic - before, though even Ginny, who liked to play the experienced traveller thanks to her job, was beaming at the tiny horses prancing on the table. Surprisingly, Luna didn't try to slip one of the transfigured plates into her pocket. Unsurprisingly, Sirius made an off-colour joke.

Which meant that dinner started on a relaxed note, and they managed to avoid ruining the mood for the rest of the evening by avoiding any difficult subjects.

Until it was time to return.

Hermione turned towards Ron, but he raised his hand. "Let's take the others back, first," he told her.

She blinked and frowned, then nodded. "Alright."

It didn't take her long to transport the other four to the Black Lake, and then it was his turn.

The first Apparition took them to the Forest of Dean, and Ron released Hermione's hand as soon as they appeared in a familiar clearing.

"So?" Hermione looked at him, and despite the darkness, he knew that she was frowning.

He craned his neck and looked up at the dark sky. "It's a clear night."

After a moment's hesitation, she agreed. "Yes, it is."

They both looked at the stars for a few more seconds before he said: "You're planning to use the Fidelius Charm to make everyone forget about the portal."

"Yes. Well, not everyone. Just most people. It's probably the best way to protect everyone - if no one knows there's a portal, then there's no reason to attack our families for leverage. But it requires a lot of preparation - the spell's very difficult to cast, and if the secret's badly worded, it can fail. Or worse."

"How long have you been planning to do that?"

He couldn't see enough of her face to catch her expression - his eyes hadn't yet adjusted enough to the darkness - but he caught her growing tension. "I didn't want to raise anyone's hopes without a solid plan. And I still don't have a solid plan. There's so much else to do…"

He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, then pulled her into a hug. He wanted to tell her that she didn't have to do everything by herself, but when it came to that sort of magic, she was pretty much on her own.

"It's really peaceful here."

* * *

"_You know, it's really peaceful here," Ron said. "You wouldn't think there was a war going on."_

_She looked up from her book - a treatise on protection charms. He was lying on his back in the grass, hands behind his head, and staring at the sky. "Aren't you cold?" There was no snow on the ground in the Forest of Dean yet, but it was chilly, especially at night._

"_It's not that cold. And it's dry."_

"_Ah." Well, it was. Still… _

"_You know, I liked looking at the stars a lot more before I had to learn all those charts for Astronomy." He sighed. "The exams took away all the fun."_

_She pressed her lips together so she wouldn't comment on his scholastic endeavours._

"_I bet you knew the star charts before you were old enough to stay up long enough to actually see the night sky, right?"_

_She huffed at the presumption, which made him chuckle. After a moment, she joined in. "I wasn't very interested in the stars," she told him a few moments later, "not until I saw Star Trek and Doctor Who."_

"_Who?"_

_Now it was her turn to giggle until he joined her._


	42. Chapter 42: The Press

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 42: The Press**

**Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, December 23rd, 2005**

A flashback was Ron's first thought when he saw her grow still. But then she sighed. Probably just a memory, then - this was an important place for her, after all. And for her friends. Especially wizarding Ron.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes. Yes." Another sigh followed. "Just…" She shrugged.

"Yes."

"Ron said the same thing, here. That it was really peaceful, you know?"

"Ah." Despite the darkness hiding his expression, Ron refrained from frowning. "Well, we are similar," he said with forced lightness. More similar, in fact, than he would have liked.

"Actually, your differences outweigh your similarities, at least for me."

"Oh?" He cocked his head. "Really?"

"Yes. And not just because you aren't a wizard. You're seven years older than the Ron I remember. And you've lived different lives."

"We're both police officers. Sort of," he pointed out.

"He's changed since I… left," she said. "He's married and a father. And more… I don't know, cynical? The Ron I knew wouldn't have gone along with all of that…" She trailed off.

"Corruption? Abuse of power? Or just the usual way a government is run?"

He didn't have to see her face to know she was frowning. "You're cynical as well. Perhaps you are more similar than I thought."

He winced at the barb. "If he's been an Auror for seven years, he's experienced enough to know no one and nothing is perfect." Idealists didn't last in the police, as Moody used to tell them. You either adapted or quit.

"I guess. It's still…" Another sigh.

"You didn't see him change slowly. And you didn't have to adapt to the reality of politics yourself."

"There's a difference between flexible and corrupt," she retorted.

"Do you think that your friends are corrupt?"

"No…" She shook her head. "Not really corrupt. But I expected better of them than just… going along with how things are done."

"Do you think the Ministry is corrupt?"

"Of course it is," she snapped. "It's merely the degree of corruption of which I'm not yet quite certain."

She might have spent a little too much time with Luna. Ron almost snorted at his thought. "Luna would agree," he said.

Hermione huffed in response. "She's an idealist."

"And you aren't?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"I think my actions and the agreements I have made show that I'm more of a realist."

"Luna also gets along with Dumbledore," Ron pointed out.

"For now," she replied. "But she's too much of an idealist. And she seems to be focused on her counterpart."

And wasn't that a scary thought. "Wizarding Luna hasn't visited our world yet, has she?"

"I don't think so, I'd expect Dumbledore to inform me if there's a witch loose in Britain since I'm the only possible counter. And we've taken measures to detect disillusioned wizards or witches coming through the portal. Pressure plates and other sensors that wouldn't be fooled by a Disillusionment Charm."

"Good. That should…" Oh no. She wouldn't… He grimaced. "How common is Shrinking Solution?"

"She wouldn't… of course she would!" She grabbed his arm. "We need to return at once."

A moment later, he felt the increasingly familiar yet still unsettling sensation of being pushed through a narrow pipe. Then they reappeared in their room at the resort.

Hermione stormed out at once, and Ron had to rush to catch up to her before she reached Luna's room.

"Luna?" She knocked on the door, then tried to open it. It was locked. "Luna?"

"She's asleep. We can ask her in the morning," Ron told her. "Don't wake her up; it's been a long day."

Why was Hermione looking at him like that?

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered, then waved her wand.

And Ron blinked. Why had he… "She didn't!"

"A Muggle-Repelling Charm on the door. Clever." Hermione said through clenched teeth. She pointed her wand at the door, flicked it and the door swung open.

Inside it looked as if Luna were in her bed, sleeping, but another wave of Hermione's wand and the blonde head turned into a teddy bear.

Ron winced. "I should have known something was off when she didn't try to stash one of your miniature horses in her pocket. She must have been keeping a shrunken Luna in there."

"And now we have a hacker and a witch loose in Britain," Hermione stated.

"And if she only wanted Xenophon to meet her counterpart, she wouldn't have needed to go to these lengths," Ron said. Luna's father hadn't attended the dinner at Ron's parents' 'for security reasons', but they could've visited him without any problems. "Did she say anything that might give us a hint about her plans?"

Hermione shook her head. "Nothing that you don't already know."

He could try calling her phone, but Luna would have 'gone off the grid' for this. And Ron didn't really want to alert Dumbledore to this incident. "She'll be back before the morning," he said. "Or she wouldn't have gone to the effort of setting all of this up."

"And then we'll have words," Hermione said, looking grim.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, December 24th, 2005**

Hermione's Intruder Charm went off a little after seven in the morning. Ron opened the door a moment later and caught Luna in the hallway. "Good morning."

"Oh. Good morning!" She beamed at him, though he knew her well enough to tell that it was a little forced.

"Luna? Can you come in for a moment?" Hermione said from behind him.

"Oh… sure?" She tilted her head slightly. "What's this about… oh." She must have noticed when she entered the area of the privacy charm Hermione had cast.

"Good morning, Luna," Hermione said. "And good morning, Luna," she added with a pointed look at the pockets of Luna's hoodie.

"She's not in there," Luna replied.

"Where is she then?" Ron asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the door.

A tiny head popped up from the back of her jeans, followed by a tiny wave.

"She cast an Extension Charm on your back pocket?" Hermione blinked.

"Yes," Luna nodded with a smile. "That way, even if I'm searched or patted down, she's completely safe!"

"Yes!" wizarding Luna added in a surprisingly loud voice.

"She also cast an Amplifying Charm," Hermione told him.

"Yes!"

"Let's take a seat, then," Hermione said. She waved her wand at the table in the room, and a tiny armchair appeared on top of it. "Now, what were you thinking?"

Wizarding Luna calmly - at least it looked like it; details were hard to make out at that size - took her seat while Luna replied: "We were thinking of the poor animals who are being slaughtered by callous humans."

For a moment, Ron worried that they had struck against slaughterhouses. If, somehow, all the meat had been turned into soybeans…

"And what did you do?"

"Nothing. Not yet," Luna added. "We were just casing the joint."

Ron winced - he had been the one to teach her that expression.

"Also scouting locations," wizarding Luna added.

"And what are you preparing to do?" Hermione asked through clenched teeth.

"Did you forget? We want to save the endangered animals," Luna said. "We told you that, didn't we?"

"You did, but didn't we tell you that that would be problematic?" Hermione still hadn't unclenched her jaw, or so it seemed.

"You did. But it's only problematic if you don't plan and prepare properly," wizarding Luna retorted.

"Proper planning prevents piss poor performance," Luna chimed in. "And we've already got most of it worked out."

"What did you work out?" Ron asked before Hermione lost her temper.

"How to protect the animals, of course. We're using a multi-pronged strategy," Luna explained. That sounded like something Sirius would say - if he was trying to sound very serious and pompous. "Loss of habitat, poaching, pollution and vulnerability to diseases and invasive species, as well as a lack of genetic diversity, are the main causes for animals becoming extinct. We cannot address all of those equally well, but we figured out a strategy that should save many of the endangered species. Lack of genetic diversity is the easiest - once an animal's numbers are on the rise, that solves itself."

"Yes!" wizarding Luna chimed in. "For many species, merely stopping the loss of their habitat will suffice. And that's easy!"

"Easy?" Ron asked.

"Muggle-Repelling Charms," wizarding Luna said. "They'll keep out poachers and loggers and tourists, creating safe havens for all the animals!"

"You would have to cast countless numbers of those spells," Ron pointed out. Or so he thought - what exactly was the area of effect of that spell?

"And it would be blatantly illegal," Hermione hissed.

Luna shook her head. "I've checked - there are no laws against using magic. In most cases, we're just doing what the government would have done, were it not corrupt."

"Yes! As you told us, the Statute of Secrecy isn't in effect in this world," wizarding Luna added, "so we can do magic as we please. We'd still be discreet, of course - it makes it easier to keep muggles out of the preserves. For most preserves, we're actually just enforcing the muggle laws - with magic." The tiny Luna beamed at them.

"Exactly," Luna said, matching her counterpart's expression. "It's a huge project, but we'll be able to do it if we apply ourselves. And it'll cut into the profits of the corrupt corporations exploiting nature and nations - it's a win-win solution!"

"That's not what… never mind!" Hermione shook her head. "Even if this were a possible solution to the problem of species becoming extinct, it wouldn't change the fact that you betrayed our trust by going behind our backs!"

"You didn't say we weren't allowed to do it," Luna countered. "I would've remembered that. And we did it to protect you."

"Protect me?"

"Plausible deniability," Luna told her with a smile. "You can honestly claim you had no idea. Although now that's not true any more." She frowned, then smiled again. "I guess that means you're now a co-conspirator!"

"I'm not a co-conspirator!" Hermione objected at once.

"Does that mean that you'll report us to the Ministry?" wizarding Luna asked, sounding hurt.

"What? No!"

"Of course not!" Luna agreed with her. "We're not doing anything Hermione hasn't done herself. Or would do. We're using magic to protect the innocent and right a wrong!"

"What?" Hermione repeated herself. "That's… it's not like that." She shook her head. "This is dangerous! If you use magic so blatantly, sooner or later, people like the Russians we fought will take notice."

"But they're muggles," wizarding Luna said, frowning. "How could they find us in the first place?"

"The preserves we need to protect are far too large to let them prepare ambushes to catch us," Luna added. "And even so, all we need to do is to fly around while disillusioned and cast a quick spell." She beamed. "We tested it - I can fly the broom, leaving Luna free to cast."

"You tested it? Where?" Ron asked. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. One which Hermione shared, judging by her expression.

"Britain doesn't have significant problems with poachers, and the national nature reserves are generally managed competently," Hermione pointed out.

And they were popular hiking spots as well.

"The most significant problem with the national nature reserves is that there aren't enough of them," Luna retorted.

"So we created a new one!" wizarding Luna added with the same grin Luna had worn when she told Ron about hacking into his school's computers.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked in a clipped tone.

"We covered Malfoy's land with Muggle-Repelling Charms," wizarding Luna told her.

"Yes!" Luna was also grinning now. "No one will be able to cut down the trees and bushes any more. Or hunt the poor foxes! Soon, nature will reclaim the entire area."

Ron blinked. "You locked Malfoy out of his own land?" That was… it couldn't have happened to a more deserving bloke! It looked like Luna hadn't forgotten the insults Malfoy had levelled at her when she and Ron had been dating.

"We saved the land that had had the misfortune of being claimed by such a disreputable and murderous family," Luna corrected him. "Foxes and other animals have rights, too! And they lived there before the Malfoys came!"

Ron laughed. The Malfoy's vaunted estate... turning into wilderness. No more hunts for them!

Hermione looked like she wanted to laugh as well, but managed to restrain herself. "You can't just do that to any park you see - not everyone is as bad as the Malfoys. And many people depend on being able to work in such parks."

"But I can give you a list of other estates you can visit," Ron added.

"I've already made a list," Luna said. "We're hitting the Parkinsons next."

"Yes!" Wizarding Luna nodded emphatically. "The more people who start their own reserves, the more who will be convinced that it was their own idea!"

Ron remembered how he had been affected by the charm and stopped smiling. As funny as imagining Malfoy losing his family's renowned contest-winning park was, that kind of mental manipulation was… disturbing.

"It might even start a trend," Luna said. "That would be a very good thing - Britain needs more nature reserves and fewer pleasure parks for the upper class!"

He looked at Hermione. She grimaced. "It sounds like it might work," she said.

"Yes! Hermione agrees!"

"I didn't say that!"

"Well, I think it's a good idea," Ron said. Hermione gasped and glared at him. "Though it'll keep you busy, won't it?" She closed her mouth - she would have realised his point: As long as the Lunas were converting parks and estates into nature reserves, they wouldn't do anything much more dangerous. Like messing with the government. Or with corporations - Luna maintained that they were one and the same past a thin veneer meant to fool the people.

"I guess…" Hermione managed to say without scowling too much.

"Great! Do you think we could start a competition among the upper classes for 'biggest donation to charity' as well?" Luna was beaming at them again.

"What? No!"

"Why not?" wizarding Luna asked. "They are very selfish, hoarding so much gold."

"Because…"

"And they can spare some money!" Luna said. "And it's better if they compete through donations than by buying overpriced luxury goods instead."

"It's not the money that's the issue," Hermione retorted. "But rather that you would be magically controlling dozens of muggles. Robbing them of their free will. And that's not right."

To Ron's surprise, both Lunas seemed to take this argument to heart. Well, Luna was a huge proponent of personal freedom.

"You're right," she said. "I didn't consider that."

"But it would just be a Compulsion Charm or two…" wizarding Luna tried to argue.

"No, no, Hermione's right," Luna told her. "It would be wrong to manipulate them with magic." She nodded with a firm expression. "We'll manipulate them with the power of the press instead! Like their pet journalists do to us!"

* * *

**Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, December 24th, 2005**

The entrance hall of the Ministry was impressive. Two stories high and large enough to contain a fountain that could double as a pool without feeling crowded. The design was old-fashioned, but then again, that would match a number of the British government's buildings.

"It's just like I remember it," Ron heard Hermione say. "Except for the statue, of course. It's good that you didn't just restore the old one, either."

Ah, the statue. It depicted a group of wizards, witches and creatures, from what Ron could tell. Made from golden metal, and set in the fountain. A little too gaudy for his taste, if he was honest.

"Well, some people wanted to do that," wizarding Ron told her. "Something about 'restoring everything the Dark Lord destroyed to make a point', but we shut that down."

"Thank you." She was smiling at him as they walked past two red-robed Aurors. They greeted wizarding Ron, but didn't stare at Ron or Hermione - their disguises were working, then.

Wizarding Ron flicked his wand, and Ron heard a faint buzzing noise - a privacy charm if he wasn't mistaken. "It was the least we could do. We also wanted the muggleborn witch to be a depiction of you, but they decided on generic figures," the wizard went on.

"What?" Hermione gasped. "Are you serious?"

Wizarding Ron grinned at her. "No, just pulling your leg. You seemed nervous."

She rolled her eyes, and Ron refrained from glaring at his counterpart. "I haven't exactly appeared in public for years - not since the Yule Ball."

"Ah, right." Was wizarding Ron annoyed? He smiled before Ron could tell. "We got used to the circus after… you know."

"Yes."

"Don't worry, the press will be nice. They know better than to send another Skeeter." Wizarding Ron laughed.

"I see." Hermione's smile was quite thin.

"Well, they certainly can't be worse than our press," Ron added. "Bloody vultures were always hounding Ginny and Harry." Before they had to hide, of course.

Hermione glared at him. "At least they're independent," she said.

"They aren't, actually," he told her as they approached a lift. Well, apart from the BBC, but the BBC had never bothered Ron's family or friends. "Most of them are owned by Murdoch and his ilk." Luna had shown him the figures.

Her frown turned into a thin-lipped scowl at his retort. "That's still better than sending reporters who have fallen out of favour to Azkaban."

"Hey, we don't do that!" wizarding Ron protested.

The lift's doors opened before he or Hermione could add anything else, revealing Dawlish - no, wizarding Dawlish; he was wearing red robes.

"Oh, hi, John," Ron's counterpart said after cancelling the privacy charm.

"Morning, Ron!" The man looked at them, then back at Ron's counterpart.

Ron heard Hermione mutter something uncomplimentary under her breath as they stepped aside to let the Auror leave the cabin of the lift.

"Special guests for Kingsley's announcement," wizarding Ron explained.

"Ah, right. I'll see you later, then - I'm part of the security detail for the press conference."

"Better you than I."

Dawlish laughed, but Ron caught him giving them another glance before the Auror turned and walked away.

Hermione was still frowning as they entered the lift. "I hope he is more competent at providing security than he was at enforcing the law," she spat. "Of course, his ineptitude was a boon when he was working for Umbridge."

"Oh, he's alright," wizarding Ron said and pushed a button - they were travelling down, Ron noticed. "He was one of the Aurors who left when Voldemort took over." He shrugged. "Didn't join the Order, but few enough did. He helped take back the Ministry, though."

"Ah." Hermione sniffed.

It was rather opportunistic. And it fit the Dawlish Ron knew, of course - the man was quick to notice the direction in which the wind was blowing. "Our Dawlish would hate having to work under us," he commented.

"Really?" His counterpart looked surprised. "Well, he certainly would like to be in charge, but that's not going to happen unless Harry and I quit." He grinned. "Killing Voldemort means something, after all. You'll see that yourself."

"I can imagine," Hermione said.

"Though you aren't planning to enter the Ministry, are you?"

"Nothing is set in stone yet," she replied. "There's far too much to be sorted out before I can make any plans for the future."

"Ah, right."

They arrived at their floor, and the doors opened before anyone said anything else.

Two more Aurors - young ones, though - were standing guard right outside the lift.

"Trevor, Catherine." Wizarding Ron nodded at them but didn't stop to chat. He led Ron and Hermione straight down the hallway.

"Kingsley remodelled," she commented.

"He had to - this is where the Death Eater sympathisers made their last stand," wizarding Ron explained. "Wasn't much left when we were done - we didn't want to take any risks, so we blasted the entire floor to pieces, room by room. Messy, but we didn't lose anyone... Hey, Penny!" he said as he opened the door to the Minister's office.

The witch sitting at the desk in the antechamber - Penelope Clearwater, according to the nameplate - frowned at him, then smiled at them. "Hermione! So good to see you again."

"Penelope! I almost didn't recognise you," Hermione returned the smile. "So… you and Percy?"

"Yes." For a moment, the witch's smile grew even wider. "Go on in, Kingsley's expecting you - and the schedule's tight as it is."

"Alright, Penny!" wizarding Ron cheerfully replied.

The witch frowned again.

Ron shook his head as his counterpart opened the door to the Minister's office.

"Ah, right on time! As expected." The Minister greeted them with a broad smile as he stood up behind his desk. He was wearing a suit, Ron noticed. Not the robes he had worn yesterday. "Good morning, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley. Ron."

"Good morning, Minister," Hermione nodded in return. As did Ron.

"Morning, Hermione. Ron." Wizarding Harry smiled at them, though Ron noticed the smile dimming a little when the wizard nodded at him. He also hadn't missed that Harry's counterpart had been standing and facing them when they had opened the door.

"Of course - Hermione wouldn't let us be late," wizarding Ron said, grinning. "So… how many in the Ministry are already aware of the news? Penny wasn't surprised," he commented with a frown.

"As my personal secretary, she, of course, was informed," the Minister replied.

"And if Percy hadn't told her, he'd have had trouble at home, I guess." Wizarding Ron shrugged.

"Quite. But I don't think the news has spread beyond that," the Minister said.

"Only to Weasleys," wizarding Ron remarked.

"So… half the country?" Wizarding Harry smirked.

Everyone chuckled at the weak joke.

"I wouldn't mind if we avoided a big spectacle," Hermione said.

"I'm afraid that will be impossible," Shacklebolt told her. "Your return - your survival - is too important. It'll be the talk of the whole country over the holidays."

"At least you can tell them that you're booked solid with your family," wizarding Ron said. "Once the invitations start arriving."

"Invitations? What invitations?" Hermione looked surprised.

"To the various Christmas and New Year's parties, of course," wizarding Ron replied. "Everyone will want to invite you to theirs. You might even get an invitation to some Yule parties. Those are usually thrown by the pure-purebloods, but not inviting you would be seen as a snub. Harry charmed a quill so he doesn't have to decline every invitation himself each year."

"Though I do hope you'll attend the Ministry's New Year's Ball." Shacklebolt was smiling widely, but Ron couldn't help feeling that the Minister was being a little more serious than he wanted to appear. "It's the biggest event of the season."

"All of us are going," Ron's counterpart added with a chuckle. "It's like the Weasley-Potter New Year's party."

"I see." Hermione glanced at Ron, and he reached out to squeeze her hand. "I'm not certain if I'm up to such an event," she said. "I'm still trying to get my bearings and reconnect with my parents and friends."

"Well, most of us will be at the party," wizarding Ron replied. "As will most of our year. Those who survived, at least."

"Attending the party would be a way to reconnect with them in a more controlled manner," the Minister added. "And appearing in public will also satisfy the demand, so to speak."

Wizarding Harry nodded. "People tend to respect your privacy a little more if you do that. Not all of them, of course, but it helps."

"I'm not the Girl Who Lived," Hermione said. "I assume that this will blow over, anyway, once everyone realises that I'm not some..." She shrugged.

"You might be surprised, Miss Granger." The Minister smiled in a slightly patronising way, in Ron's opinion.

"In that case, I think I'm overdressed," Hermione retorted with a toothy smile, running a hand over her deux-pièce. "I should have worn a ripped jumper and jeans, then, with some bloodstains, to fit the image."

Everyone laughed again, but it felt forced - at least to Ron.

"You look perfect," the Minister told her. "Very professional. You must have a good job in your muggle life."

"Thank you." Hermione's smile was rather lopsided. "I wish. With my missing past, I couldn't have a career."

"Well, that's no longer the case - every door's open for you now." The Minister turned to look at Ron. "Your presence will also draw attention, of course. The people love a good love story."

Ron shrugged. "I'll be happy if people accept that I'm a mere muggle."

"Of course they will!"

Wizarding Harry and Ron looked less optimistic. "You could stay in the background," Ron's counterpart said. "Keep a low profile for a bit, until the excitement's faded."

"I don't like to hide," Ron told him. He wouldn't let the wizards drive him away from Hermione. It might be smarter - less risk of someone seeing through his disguise - but, still… it would feel like giving up. "Besides, I'm a Weasley - that should count for something, shouldn't it?"

The surprised expression on his counterpart's face almost made Ron laugh out loud.

"Hello, everyone! Shouldn't you be getting ready? The event is scheduled to begin in ten minutes!"

What? That was Hermione's voice, but…

Ron turned and saw Hermione's portrait beaming at them from where it had apparently ousted the usual resident in the painting behind the Minister's desk.

"What is it doing here?" Hermione addressed Shacklebolt.

"I came to watch how you address a crowd, of course!" the portrait said in a far too cheery and far too Hermione-like voice. "So I can do the same when addressing the students at Hogwarts!"

"What?"

"I need to study you to be more like you. Observing you in different situations serves that purpose. Individual lessons would be preferred, of course, although they might also show more bias. Neutral observation does not suffer from that drawback." The portrait nodded emphatically. "By combining both methods, I should be able to achieve my goal with the utmost efficiency."

Hermione glared at her wizarding friends. "Shouldn't it be at Hogwarts?"

"I often visit the Minister for Magic to give advice, although he doesn't follow up on it as often as I'd expect. I suspect that is because I still haven't managed to duplicate you to a sufficient degree."

"Don't tell me that you let a portrait set policy!" Hermione blurted out.

"Her input has proven quite valuable in the past," Shacklebolt replied. "Listening to a different viewpoint rarely hurts before making a decision."

Especially if it also allowed the Minister to more readily use Hermione's name. Ron smiled thinly.

"Exactly," the portrait said. "I love advising people."

"I bet," Ron heard Hermione mumble.

"But you really should now go," the painting went on, "or you might be late."

"They won't start without us," wizarding Ron said.

"That doesn't mean you should make them wait. Quite the contrary, actually - with great power comes great responsibility."

"I never said that!" Hermione protested. "That's from a comic book!"

"That doesn't mean that it's wrong," the portrait retorted. "You should separate the argument from the person making it, you know?"

Hermione looked like she wanted to separate the portrait's head from its neck. "It's right, though," she said through clenched teeth. "Let's go!"

"Of course I'm right! I'm your portrait."

As soon as they were inside the lift - and, presumably, away from any paintings - Hermione turned to stare at Shacklebolt and said: "'A different point of view'? Portraits only say what they have been taught!"

"Well, we did our best with her," wizarding Ron replied. "She's not you, but she's not bad."

"_It_. It's a portrait. Not a living being," Hermione corrected him.

"Careful! That sounds like discrimination against the painted!" Wizarding Harry was smiling as he said it, but Hermione still glared at him.

"Whatever. It seems I do need to teach the portrait better," she said.

"That's an excellent idea," the Minister agreed.

"We'll see."

The lift stopped, cutting off any further discussion of that or any other topic, and they stepped out into a hallway - not the Atrium, as Ron had expected, where the press conference, if the announcement deserved that title, would take place.

"Please wait here until I call all of you," Shacklebolt said. "We wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, now would we?" He flashed his broad smile again.

Ron was quite sure that Hermione considered doing exactly that, but she nodded in agreement after a moment. "Alright."

"It won't take long," wizarding Ron told her, stretching a little. "Not like Fudge. That man could ramble."

"It was the least of his faults," Hermione said. "I'm a little surprised Shacklebolt didn't want to know what I'm planning to say," she added after a moment.

"He knows you wouldn't respond well to any attempt to tell you what to say," wizarding Harry said with a very familiar grin.

"Ah. Did you tell him?"

"Yes. Though as you saw, he's familiar with your portrait," the wizard told her.

"Who isn't me." Hermione pursed her lips.

"No, but she's quite similar to you," Ron's counterpart said. At the glare he received, he added: "A little, at least. And she's based on teenage you."

"Like based on a true story?" Ron asked, trying to defuse the growing tension.

Hermione laughed. "More or less. At least you got the hair correct."

"We had to work for that - the painter tried to insist on a 'more fitting hairstyle'," wizarding Ron said.

"And a more _heroic _bust, I bet." Hermione shook her head with a rueful grin.

"Well… yes," wizarding Harry admitted. "But we put our foot down there as well."

"We wanted to remember you as we knew you, not as some…" wizarding Ron trailed off, gesturing.

"...exaggerated portrait?" Hermione prompted.

"Well, you were a right terror as a prefect," he told her. "Not even Percy managed to keep Fred and George under control, but you did. Mostly."

"I just took my duties seriously," Hermione replied in a slightly clipped tone.

"Very seriously," wizarding Harry said with a grin. "And we love you for it."

Before Ron could add a comment of his own, the door in front of them swung open. Showtime.

He could hear Shacklebolt as they walked into the Atrium: "...and it is with great pleasure that I can announce that reports of her death have been greatly exaggerated. Hermione Granger is alive!"

The Minister's announcement, together with their - Hermione's - appearance triggered an uproar and an old-fashioned flurry of flashbulbs.

"Miss Granger!"

"Hermione!"

"HERMIONE!"

Ron blinked. There was Luna in the first row, waving excitedly.

"Granger!"

"How did you survive?"

"Miss Granger!"

"What happened?"

"Where did you spend the last seven years?"

By the time they reached the podium where Shacklebolt was standing, Ron had fallen a step behind Hermione, who was flanked by her friends. This was her moment. Even though he could tell that she had to force herself to smile.

"Please, please - calm down. Let Hermione speak, and your questions will be answered."

It took the Minister a little while to calm the crowd - there weren't many journalists; the majority of the people present had to be Ministry employees. Perhaps visitors as well.

As the Minister ceded her the spot behind the podium, Hermione cleared her throat and stepped up. "Thank you, Minister." She nodded at him, then at the audience. "Good morning, everyone. Yes, I didn't die in the Battle of Hogwarts, as you can see. However, I was struck by an unknown curse, and while I managed to escape, I lost my wand and my memory. And, in addition to that, due to a magical mishap involving Fiendfyre, I ended up a long way away from Hogwarts. It wasn't until recently that I recovered my memory and remembered that I am a witch and not a muggle."

That started another, although a bit quieter, uproar, though Hermione kept talking: "As soon as I could manage to do so without a wand, I contacted my family and friends, who confirmed my identity." She nodded, a little jerkily. "I'm back."

She held up a hand to stop the questions already being launched at her and looked over her shoulder at Ron. "To forestall any speculation and questions about my relationship status: I fell in love while I lived as a muggle. This is my partner, Ronald." She held out her hand, and Ron joined her, smiling at the audience. "Yes, he's a muggle."

"Hi, Ronald!" Luna yelled.

"Alright, everyone," Shacklebolt smoothly stepped up again. "We're now open for a few questions, though keep in mind: Hermione returned very recently and is still readjusting to life in Wizarding Britain, not to mention reconnecting with all her friends and family who thought she'd died years ago."

"Miss Granger, why did it take you seven years to return?"

Ron saw her smile slip a little more as she eyed the man who had asked that question."You're from the Daily Prophet, correct?"

The wizard nodded. "Yes, Miss Granger. Hieronimus Smith." He seemed pleased to have been recognised.

"It figures." Hermione inclined her head. "As I just mentioned, I had lost my memories. I didn't recover them until very recently. I returned to Wizarding Britain as soon as I could, I assure you."

"Miss Granger! Delia Dirgebattle, Thaumaturgy Monthly. How did you recover your memory? There are several cases of Obliviation mishaps at St Mungo's who might benefit from a new approach."

"I'm sorry, but as far as I can tell, it was accidental magic," Hermione replied.

"At your age?" The journalist adjusted her glasses and frowned.

"It's not unheard of, I believe."

"No, but generally, for an adult to use accidental magic the situation would have to be a very stressful one."

"No comment."

"Miss Granger! Selena Selwyn, Witch Weekly! How did your boyfriend react to the revelation of magic?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Hermione told the witch and looked at Ron.

"Well, I was very surprised, but I think I've adjusted well." Ron smiled and wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist. "As long as we're together everything's great."

Selwyn beamed, though he saw a number of frowns.

"Herbert Müller, Magischer Kurier. Why wasn't your _partner _obliviated? The International Statute of Secrecy is very clear that knowledge of magic is to be restricted to close muggle _family _members. And while it's common knowledge that many witches and wizards tell their fiancés before the wedding, it's still illegal."

"He has magical relations, as we recently discovered," Hermione retorted.

"Could you elaborate on that?" the presumably German wizard asked.

"I could, but then I'd have to obliviate you." Hermione bared her teeth at him, which was probably the reason there wasn't much laughter following her remark. "Next question - Luna?"

"Luna Lovegood, The Quibbler! Ronald, which magical creature are you most looking forward to meeting?"

He blinked. "Err… dragons, I guess."

"Katie Nott, Teen Witch Weekly. Mr Potter, what were your feelings on being reunited with your best friend?"

"I'm very, very happy, of course. For years, we've mourned her, and now Hermione has returned to us, hale and whole. Words cannot express my feelings and my family's feelings."

"Francine Dubois, Tribune Magique. Mr Weasley, how did your wife react to your old lover returning from death?"

Well, Ron thought as wizarding Ron stepped up to reply with a smile that was very obviously fake, the difference between British and foreign wizarding journalists is quite clear.

Strangely, though, he felt more at ease now - this was how he was used to the press behaving.

* * *

"_Don't touch anything, Miss Granger. The ointment needs a little time to work on your hands. That includes scratching."_

"_Yes, Madam Pomfrey," she replied. She smiled despite the itching of her hands. The ointment had dulled the pain in her hands, and itches were a small price to pay for that relief. She had barely managed to keep from crying before Harry and Ron had rushed her out of the Great Hall. Undiluted Bubotuber pus - what sort of monster would send that to her? And in response to some blatantly made-up article in the Daily Prophet? Who would do such a thing?_

_Most Slytherins, apparently, she answered her own question, if their mocking laughter at her misfortune was anything to go by._

_She gritted her teeth - in anger, not pain now. If that pus had hit her face she could have gone blind. If Madam Pomfrey hadn't been so skilled, and so quick, her hands might have been ruined for weeks. And Malfoy and his ilk thought that was funny?_

_She wished they had been drenched in the stuff. See if they still thought it was funny then!_

_And the Daily Prophet's editor, too! To let an article full of such filthy lies pass was a crime against journalism! _

_As soon as she could use her hands again, she was going to write a letter to the Daily Prophet!_


	43. Chapter 43: The Grangers

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 43: The Grangers**

**Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, December 24th, 2005**

"I'm sorry about the foreign correspondents," the Minister said after the press conference - if you could call it that, what with the majority of the audience not having been journalists - had finally ended and they were back in his office. "But banning them from such events only makes them more hostile."

Ron could imagine how the tabloids back home would react to such measures.

"It wasn't as bad as I feared," Hermione said. "I'm still not used to the fact that Skeeter's now in prison and the Prophet is touting the party line."

"Well, the French and Germans are trying their best to replace Skeeter," wizarding Ron commented. "Can't do much about them, though. Fleur's dad's currently not too popular in France."

"Oh?" Hermione looked surprised.

They hadn't heard anything about that at the dinner at The Burrow. Nothing about international politics or Fleur's family in France.

"The measures we've taken to root out pureblood bigotry were not received well by the French or Prussians," the Minister explained, "and the Delacours are seen as our allies."

"An obvious result of the archaic feudal system that is oppressing Magical France, where marriages are considered just another political tool. It's a tragedy that the oppressive French pureblood regime is abusing the freedom of the press in Britain to attack the democratic - and clearly superior - system that granted that freedom in the first place."

Ron winced - Hermione's portrait had returned.

"Using the implied threat of Azkaban to keep the press in line isn't exactly the best example of the freedom of the press," Hermione retorted.

"Freedom of the press doesn't protect those inciting genocide or committing other crimes." The portrait sniffed. "You should know that."

"I know that freedom of the press can be granted on paper while being all but removed in practice," Hermione shot back. With a glance at the Minister, she added: "I don't know how it plays out in Wizarding Britain, and I certainly don't miss Skeeter's articles, but a self-censoring newspaper isn't a good thing."

"They're merely showing more restraint and responsibility," Shacklebolt said. "Both of which have been lacking before. They might be erring a little too much on the side of caution, but that's not a bad thing at this point - we're still reforming the Ministry and educating the people."

"And education is crucial for any country! Only a well-educated population will ensure prosperity and democracy!" the portrait added. "Hogwarts is crucial for our future, and everyone needs to do their part to ensure it's the best school it can be."

Wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron had the grace to blush a little when Hermione glared at them, but Ron's counterpart quickly grinned. "'Or worse, expelled'?"

It was Hermione's turn to flush. "I was eleven!" she shot back. "I can't believe you modelled my portrait on my pre-teen years!"

"If you feel that I do not accurately reflect important aspects of yourself, I'm still eagerly awaiting your lessons!" the portrait stated, beaming at her.

"Rest assured, as soon as I have the time, I will educate you thoroughly," Hermione bit out.

"In any case, we should have a period of grace over the holidays," Shacklebolt said. "Although you might want to celebrate with your parents in a house that's protected against eavesdropping spells and similar tactics."

"We will be completely safe from any magical interference," Hermione said with a thin smile.

That probably meant they'd celebrate in Ron's world. But they still had to find a Healer and a unicorn horn. "And why do the Germans care about Britain?" Ron asked.

"It's mostly Prussia, although the smaller German countries tend to follow their lead, with the exception of Bavaria," the Minister replied. "They tend to be contrarian, but they're the only German country large enough to stand on their own."

"Both are ruled by purebloods and still scared and scarred from Grindelwald's War," wizarding Harry added. "They're afraid of us starting another war."

The Minister nodded. "They wouldn't admit that, of course. But apart from the Scandinavian feuds and the Balkan Troubles, both of which are low-intensity conflicts at best, Britain's civil wars were the only notable conflicts in magical Europe since Grindelwald, and we're considered somewhat extremist as a result."

"'Extremist'?" Hermione blinked.

"The Battle of Hogwarts involved a significant part of our population - the French called it a 'levée en masse' in the Tribune Magique. As a result, a number of European wizarding governments have a slightly skewed view of Wizarding Britain." Shacklebolt spread his hands with a wry smile.

"It didn't help that a couple bigots fled the country before we could catch them and spread lies about us in the rest of Europe," wizarding Ron added.

"Indeed, there is a small but vocal community of British exiles, most of them in France and Prussia." Shacklebolt nodded. "They aren't a real threat, but they can cause 'interesting' diplomatic problems from time to time. Nothing we can't handle, though."

Great. It might not be a problem for Wizarding Britain, but it seemed that they would have to be very careful while in Prussia.

* * *

**Greenwich, London, Wizarding World, December 24th, 2005**

Ron checked himself again. His gun didn't show. Not too much. It would be a little uncomfortable to sit with his pistol resting against the small of his back, but he was used to it.

He wasn't used to spending Christmas Eve with the Grangers.

"My parents don't expect you to show up in formal wear, you know."

He glanced to the side and saw Hermione shaking her head slightly. "I know," he told her. "Formal wear would be easier, actually - I could hide my gun easily in a shoulder holster under a tailored jacket."

"They know that you're a police officer and that you're carrying a gun."

"That doesn't mean they want to be reminded of that fact," he retorted. Mum hadn't been pleased the time she had spotted his gun during a family dinner. "Especially on Christmas Eve."

"I think they're more concerned about the fact that they cannot celebrate Christmas in their own home because wizarding journalists would pester them."

"Maybe." Ron wasn't convinced. If he showed up on Christma Eve to tell his parents that they had to move out into a wizarding tent for the holidays and that it was all his fault…

"Let's go! There's no one hiding under a Disillusionment Charm nearby." Hermione grabbed his hand, and a moment later, they appeared in the Granger's living room. "Mum? Dad?"

"Hermione? Oh, you're here already!" Mrs Granger stepped into the living room and hugged her, closely followed by Mr Granger, who didn't bother removing his apron.

Ron took a step back to give them more space and looked around. A small but nicely decorated tree in the corner, with real candles, not electric ones. A stack of presents underneath it. A miniature native scene that had to have been hand-crafted by Hermione as a child - it was, honestly, too crude to have been bought.

Electric fireplace, not a real one. Vintage furniture - expensive, but not ostentatiously so. What one would expect from a pair of dentists. And… the ugliest and largest cat Ron had ever seen. A squashed face, bright orange, poofy fur, a tail like a bottle-brush and enough mass for two normal cats.

And it was walking up to him, sniffing his shoes and trousers, before it tilted its head, looking confused. "Crookshanks, I presume," he said. The cat made a questioning noise as if it had understood him.

"Oh, Crookshanks! That's not the Ron you know, that's a new Ron!" Hermione exclaimed as she knelt down and picked the cat up. "I know it's confusing, but you'll learn to tell them apart quickly."

"Cats use their sense of smell, so he shouldn't be confused," Mrs Granger said. "Oh!" She gasped. "I'm terribly sorry, Ron - I just saw Hermione, and…"

"Yes. Hello, Ron," Mr Granger added.

"It's OK," he told them. He probably would've reacted the same, in their place.

"Crookshanks is a half-Kneazle, so you can't just assume he'll behave like a normal house cat. He's much, much smarter than a cat!" Hermione claimed.

"That's probably why he's confused," Mr Granger replied.

"Isn't he adorable? He's the best cat a girl could want!" Hermione held the cat up to Ron, and he found himself staring directly into its face.

"He's certainly unique," Ron said.

The cat sniffed in return.

"He likes you!" Hermione announced. "Here, hold him - I'll fetch his cage."

"His cage?" Mrs Granger raised her brows.

"Oh… we need to move for the holidays." Hermione had the grace to blush. "I was told that we can expect the press to hound us, otherwise, and the house isn't safe."

"What?"

"I've prepared a wizarding tent - it's roomy and comfortable. I'm sorry about springing this on you," Hermione said, "but the Ministry doesn't seem to control the foreign press as they do the domestic. Not that they should control any of the media - but it would've come in handy today."

Mum and Dad would have been quite annoyed if faced with having something like that sprung on them, even if it had been their daughter who had just returned from the grave, but the Grangers seemed to take it in stride.

Well, they were probably used to it.

* * *

**Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, Wizarding World, December 24th, 2005**

Christmas Eve with the Grangers was very different than what Ron was used to. For starters, it was far quieter. Granted, Hermione was talking a lot, but she was just one person - back home, there'd be three or four conversations going on at the same time, at the minimum. And the food was, not that Ron would say so, not as good as Mum's. But then, few could cook as well as Ron's mother, and it was still good.

"...and then we left the Ministry." Hermione shook her head. "It's incredibly annoying that everyone seems to think that the current situation with the press is a good thing!"

That, though, sounded very familiar. Percy complained about the press all the time.

"Well," Mr Granger said, "they probably think it's better if they have control over the press than if someone else controls the media." He frowned. "And knowing what the Prophet wrote in the past, I can't exactly blame them," he added, his frown deepening.

"But just because they were wronged - as was I, I have to point out - doesn't mean we should do the same to others!" Hermione protested. "What if there's a new Minister with a new agenda? They could easily abuse the Prophet then! We need an independent press, not a Ministry mouthpiece!"

"That's easier said than done," her father replied. "Even if the Ministry relinquishes control of the media de facto as well as de jure, you would need to ensure that the owners of the Daily Prophet and the Wizarding Wireless had enough integrity to avoid influencing their employees or censoring them. And from what I've heard over the years, that's not the case."

Hermione scowled. "We have to start sometime, or things will never change. And the longer we wait, the longer it'll take."

"But if you simply relinquish control and influence without ensuring that the groundwork for a truly free press has first been laid, things will get worse," Mrs Granger told her. "And as long as the Prophet is the only newspaper, things are unlikely to improve."

"There's also the Wizarding Wireless and The Quibbler," Hermione retorted before sighing. "But yes, I understand the problem. That still doesn't mean that it's right to intimidate the press with the silent threat of sending journalists to Azkaban. And that is what's happening! The people in the Ministry might only be joking, but I don't think the British journalists are laughing!"

She was talking about her friends, Ron realised. "I agree," he said. "But what can you do? Short of founding and running another newspaper and leading by example?"

Hermione seemed to actually seriously consider that, judging by her expression. Ron pressed his lips together - that wouldn't be a good idea.

"As long as you know that a newspaper has an agenda, it's not that bad," Mr Granger said. "You know you have to take everything with a grain of salt. Or a handful of salt, in some cases."

"Yes," Ron agreed. "But sometimes, the agenda is just making as much profit as possible, no matter the consequences." He remembered a few particularly unfair articles about Harry and Ginny in The Sun. "And that can cause a lot of harm."

"I'm aware of the problem of censorship, and how much influence someone controlling the press has," Hermione all but snapped. "But things have to change - you heard the Minister's offer: A cushy job for me and my support for him. That's cronyism in action!"

Mirs Granger shook her head. "Dear, you're a brilliant young woman - as you've proven by getting a doctorate in quantum physics."

"And by managing to open a way to travel between universes," Ron added. That was far more impressive, in his biased opinion.

"Yes," Hermione's mother agreed, "however, I was about to say that you would have received that offer anyway. Or a similar one."

"I haven't even taken my N.E.W.T.s!" Hermione exclaimed. "I don't qualify for a position at the Ministry - certainly not a high-ranking one!"

"But you're more qualified than most others, aren't you?" her father asked. "And you could take your N.E.W.T.s now, couldn't you? If you wanted to work at the Ministry, that is."

"I don't want to work at the Ministry." She shook her head. "I have more important projects. And I don't need to take my N.E.W.T.s. It would just be a vanity project."

"But you want to take your N.E.W.T.s," Mrs Granger said with a faint smile.

Hermione pouted at her. "Yes," she forced out with a scowl. "It would… it would give me a sort of closure, I suppose, to formally finish my wizarding education. And since the portal uses both physics and magic, it would probably inspire more confidence if I didn't just have a degree in quantum physics but also in magic."

"Inspire confidence in whom?" Ron couldn't help asking. "Everyone who knows about the portal trusts your work, degree or no degree." Well, perhaps not Grindelwald.

"It's the principle of the thing," Hermione retorted.

"And your pride," her father added.

"Yes," she spat. "In any case, I don't think we should talk about my supposed vanity when we have much more important problems to discuss. Such as the Ministry."

"And how the country will react to the revelation of your survival," Ron added.

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "The way they built me up as a heroine, I'm almost afraid of how people will react when they find out what I'm really like. Although I suppose that not everyone buys into Ministry propaganda."

"Most did, though, didn't they, when you were in school?" Ron asked. He remembered the stories she'd told about her fourth and fifth year.

"Did they ever find out who sent you that acid letter?" Mrs Granger scowled.

"Bubotuber pus," Hermione corrected her, then blinked. "You know about that? I didn't think I ever told you about it."

"Ron and Harry told us," Mr Granger replied.

"After your disappearance, the first year, we met a couple of times, started to work through our grief, shared stories about you," Mrs Granger explained. "You kept a lot of secrets from us." She didn't sound angry, but Hermione flinched a little anyway, Ron noticed.

"Wasn't that my prerogative as a teenager?" she protested in an attempt to defend herself. "It's not as if anyone tells their parents everything, do they?"

"I think there's a little difference between not telling your parents about a crush on your friend, or the drinks you had at a party, and fighting mass murderers," Mr Granger retorted.

"Or being libelled in the press, and attacked," Mrs Granger added.

"You would have known about that if you'd bought a subscription to the Daily Prophet, as I remember proposing to you," Hermione replied with a pout.

"We thought daily visits by owls would be a bit much," Mr Granger said.

"And I was sure Gabriel would accidentally leave an issue in our waiting room. And that would have caused problems for us."

Ron could see that. "Obliviations for everyone, I guess."

Mrs Granger nodded. "Along with accusations of endangering the Statute of Secrecy."

"It's about the only law that all wizarding countries respect and try to enforce," Hermione said with a huff.

"Well, let's just enjoy the evening, dear," her father suggested after a moment. "We can discuss international politics - or should that be interdimensional politics these days? - tomorrow."

Ron chuckled at the joke. "Well, at my family's Christmas dinner tomorrow, someone's probably going to be talking about politics." Likely Percy or Dad.

"Ah." Mr Granger nodded. "And our dimensional counterparts will be present as well?" He sounded a little… reserved?

"Yes." Hermione smiled weakly, then set her jaw. "They're not you, but…"

"You spent seven years with them. They became part of your family," Mrs Granger said.

"Yes. And they recently got confirmation that their daughter was killed," Hermione told them. "They've known for years that she was most likely dead - the odds of any missing child reappearing after seven, much less fourteen, years are infinitesimal - but... " She shrugged. "They're very nice people. Well, they're versions of you."

"It should be interesting to talk to them," Mr Granger said before turning to look straight at Ron. "You've met your counterpart."

"Yes," Ron said. "But we didn't talk much." He shrugged. "We're a little more different than you and the Grangers."

"I can imagine," Mrs Granger told him. "Though Ron changed a lot, after…"

"Let's just call it 'after the war'," Hermione said.

"After the war." Mrs Granger sighed. "He was so broken - more than we were, to be honest. We weren't there with you, but he was. And he blamed himself. For not being there with you, for being too slow, for letting you go alone…" She shook her head. "It took a long time for him to pull himself together. Lavender helped him a lot."

Hermione didn't quite scowl, but Ron caught her lips twisting a little. "Ah." She paused for a moment before adding: "I'm happy for him."

"Well, I'm sure he's happy for you," Mr Granger said, smiling at both Hermione and Ron. "Though I can imagine that has to feel a little weird."

"Just a little," Ron lied.

* * *

The air outside the tent was cold, but Ron didn't mind. It helped to clear his head - he shouldn't have helped Mr Granger - Gabriel - finish that third bottle. He took a few deep breaths. The air smelt clean, too.

"Feeling better?"

He turned to look at Hermione. "I wasn't feeling bad. I just wanted some fresh air." He gestured at the clearing around them.

She nodded and stepped up to him. "Not sick of my parents, then?"

"Of course not!" He shook his head. "At least they know what I'm talking about when I mention Doctor Who."

She giggled at that for some reason. He was about to comment when he heard something moving in the bushes. "Careful," he snapped, drawing his gun.

A moment later, she had her wand out and was standing about two yards away.

Then a fat cat walked into the clearing.

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed. "There you are! And did you bring me a present?"

The animal walked up to her and dropped a dead mouse. How the tomcat had managed to catch anything when he made so much noise passing through the forest, Ron couldn't fathom.

"Thank you, Crookshanks! That's a lovely mouse!"

Ron bit back a sarcastic comment. Hermione was convinced the cat could understand humans, and, since it was a magical creature, he'd rather not risk antagonising it. Having your girlfriend's pet hate you would put a strain on any relationship. Poor Percy could tell you all about it.

And the cat wasn't really bad. Ugly as sin, and wide enough to pass as a lynx if put on stilts, it hadn't tried to scratch or bite him. And Hermione obviously adored it.

As long as…

Crookshanks jumping out of Hermione's arms and hissing at the forest - no, at the sky - interrupted Ron's thought. What the…?

Out of the sky dropped shapes, multiple numbers of them. Silent as… owls in flight. A dozen of them, it seemed. And all headed towards Hermione.

* * *

"I can't believe I forgot to ward myself against post owls! If I had made that mistake during the war..." Hermione shook her head almost violently, even though she was repeating herself.

"You're not in the war any more, dear." Ellen seemed more amused than concerned, Ron noticed.

"There could still be Death Eater remnants. Sleeper agents who weren't activated during the war and went to ground. Bigots who were too young to fight, but are now adults. And purebloods who got radicalised by the Ministry's policies since the war," Hermione retorted.

"Well, that's why the letters won't be opened until they've been checked for curses," Ron commented. "Bill's counterpart is a curse-breaker, isn't he?"

"Yes. We can meet him the day after Christmas," she replied.

He nodded. "They won't expect prompt answers, will they?"

"I hope not."

"Are you planning to answer them all?" Gabriel asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Only those I know from school, or if there's a special reason. It's not as if I was close to many people, and I've already met most of them."

Or they were dead. Killed in the war. Not a subject to dwell on, especially on Christmas Eve. "So… tomorrow, Weasley Christmas Dinner. Then the Other Weasley Family Dinner." Ron shook his head with a grin. "I didn't expect to get that sort of holiday schedule. Certainly not before marriage."

Hermione didn't take the bait. "But you were together with Luna for a few years, weren't you?"

"More or less, yes. But Xenophon isn't fond of big holiday dinners." Not since Luna's mum had died, at least as far as Ron knew. "So Luna just joined our family dinner, sometimes with Xenophon. Sometimes he was busy 'undercover' somewhere." Or, as Ron suspected, but had never asked or confirmed, getting drunk.

"Does that mean the Lovegoods will be there as well, tomorrow?" Ellen asked.

"Probably," Ron replied. Xenophon hadn't seen Luna as often as usual during the last few months, after all. "I don't know if the other Luna and her father will be present as well, though."

"I'm still not convinced that us showing up is a good idea," Gabriel said. "Your whole family will be present, right?"

"Yes." Ron shook his head. They had gone over this before. "For months, they've been in danger because of us. It's only fair to let them know why. And it will keep them from trying to investigate on their own."

"They cannot reveal what they don't know," the older man retorted.

That was a little selfish. "But they'll be much more cautious if they know what's at stake." Especially the twins. Although Ron had his - very private - doubts that even that would make them cautious enough.

"And it's only temporary, until I can figure out how to cast the Fidelius Charm," Hermione added. "Not to mention that Luna probably has her own ideas about need to know." She glanced at Ron, and he nodded in agreement.

Luna had quite strong opinions on family and on information control.

* * *

**Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire, Britain, December 25th, 2005**

"If we keep using this clearing, we might look into opening a portal here," Ron commented as he watched Hermione put up the wizarding tent at the tree line.

"Would that work?" Gabriel asked. "I would feel a little better if we didn't have to go through Dumbledore's underground base. It looks a little too much like a lair in a spy movie."

And it was under Dumbledore's control.

"We would need to remain here for a much longer time, and use a significant amount of magic, to achieve that," Hermione said, flicking her wand in another spell that Ron didn't recognise. "Although," she added with a frown, "It might be different in this world - it might not require as much. I'll have to test that, once I have the time."

Ron smiled - he had been joking, but if it worked…?

"Alright, you can go in now, we should be safe from intruders. I'll go fetch Gabriel and Ellen. Breakfast should be ready inside."

Ron's smile slipped. This would be an awkward meeting. But it was better to have the meeting now, in relative privacy, than at his parents' home. That would be a madhouse.

"Couldn't we have the meeting in Grimmauld Place?" Gabriel asked.

"Ah." That was a good question, actually. "This is more private," Ron said. "More like a neutral place." And one Hermione controlled, not anyone else.

"Ah. Well, I can't complain about the amenities. It's just…" Hermione's father looked around. "This is a really important location for her, isn't it?"

"Yes." Ron nodded as he held up the tent flap for the Grangers. "Well, the clearing in your world is."

Gabriel and Ellen looked around one more time before they entered.

"I don't know if this is a good idea," Ellen commented as they sat down on the couch in the tent's living room.

"You didn't say anything against it." Gabriel gave voice to what Ron was thinking.

"I know. Hermione was convincing. And I understand the reasons for this. All of this. But… to meet another me?"

"Another mother for Hermione?" Gabriel asked, which earned him a frown.

At least they weren't looking at Ron and asking him for his impressions about meeting his counterpart.

Ron heard the tell-tale sound of Apparition before either of the Grangers said anything else.

"And here we are!" Hermione announced with what sounded like forced cheer to Ron as he entered the tent and held up the flap.

Then Mr and Mrs Granger entered, and things got really awkward. They weren't dressed identically, Ron noted with relief as they slipped out of their jackets and coats, but both couples wore clothes of a very similar style.

"Ah… hello."

"Hello."

"Hello, Mrs Granger… that sounds so odd."

"Yes, it does. Doesn't it?"

"Oh, for…" Hermione huffed. "Just talk like normal people!"

"Having four people sharing two names does make holding a conversation a little difficult, love," Gabriel pointed out.

Mr Granger nodded in agreement. "Yes, love."

Then both men looked at each other. "Ah."

"Shall we eat breakfast first?" Ron cut in. That should defuse the situation a little.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, when Gabriel and Mr Granger reached for the tea at the same time - again - he knew he had been wrong. Ellen and Mrs Granger were buttering their croissants in identical ways. They took their tea the same way, too. It was eerie.

"I wonder if magic is the real reason the other Ron's so different from me," Ron said.

"I don't think so," Hermione replied. "You lived different lives." She looked at the others. "You, though, have experienced remarkably similar events in your lives. You went through a lot of the same, ah…" she trailed off. "You both worried about me going to fight terrorists, just at different times."

"Yes. And we both lost our daughter, or thought so," Ellen added.

Ron could feel the tension grow during the next few seconds of silence.

"And you're afraid of losing me again," Hermione spoke up.

A few more seconds of silence followed, then Mrs Granger replied: "To be honest, yes."

Her husband nodded. "You've returned to your world. To your magical world. Your parents." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Your friends."

"I didn't mean just you, Gabriel, Ellen," Hermione clarified, then looked at her parents.

Gabriel took a deep breath. "Yes, we share this… sentiment."

"You mean fear, dear," Ellen corrected him, then patted his hand.

"How so?" Mr Granger asked. "It's not as…" He shrugged.

Ellen took a deep breath. "We were slowly losing Hermione to the magical world, and then the magical war, for years."

"I was needed!" Hermione protested. "We were at war, and we needed everyone!"

"Dear, you started to spend your holidays with your friends, in the magical world, before there was a war," Ellen replied. "And it only grew worse once Voldemort returned."

"But…" Hermione bit down on her lower lip. "I couldn't let my friends down."

"We didn't expect you to," Gabriel told her. "But… you've always been passionate. About everything that caught your interest. Reading. School. Magic."

That fit her perfectly. Ron could imagine pre-teen Hermione going all-out about school.

"And now you've got a new project," the other man went on. "The portal."

"I'm working on solving the problems related to the portal," Hermione retorted. "And we will solve them."

"Yes. But that doesn't mean the portal will vanish." Gabriel smiled, a little ruefully.

"Of course not! It's one of the most important discoveries in history!" Hermione shook her head. "It's not just a means to an end!"

"What they mean is that they expect you to spend a lot of your time working on the portal," Mrs Granger said. "As do we, in fact."

"We've long since realised that you throw yourself fully into any task," Mr Granger added. "And this is the biggest task of all."

"Apart from, perhaps, reforming the reformed Ministry," Gabriel pointed out. "In any case… Yes, we fear that you'll be so focused on your work, you won't have much time for us. Any of us."

"With the exception of Ron," Ellen said with a wry smile aimed at Ron.

It was very selfish, but Ron hoped that she was correct.

"And I don't think that either the portal or wizarding politics are very safe," Mr Granger said. "Not after all you've told us."

"The Ministry's been reformed," Hermione replied. "They just might've gone a little too far, but they wouldn't have me assassinated for dissenting."

"You said that there were almost certainly Death Eaters still in hiding," Ellen pointed out.

"I have to take those into account no matter what I do," Hermione told her, "but I understand your concerns. And I will do my best to ensure your fears won't be realised. All your fears." She sighed. "I feel like a child of divorced parents. I guess we'll have to work out a schedule."

Ron snorted at that, then realised that she hadn't been joking when he saw everyone else nodding in agreement.

Well, she had to have gotten that from someone, didn't she?

* * *

**Ottery St Mary, Devon, Britain, December 25th, 2005**

"Mum! Where are the good wine glasses?"

"Fred! We don't drink before dinner."

"Yes, but we need to set the table now, don't we? Also, I'm George."

"No, you're not. And yes, set the table, please. The glasses are in the kitchen; I just cleaned them."

"Did you clean all of the china, Mum?"

"Yes, George."

"What for?"

"It needed to be cleaned."

"Did the twins do anything to the silverware… again?"

"No, Percy, they didn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, dear."

After the calm and far too reasonable - on the surface, at least; Ron was certain that the actual implementation of the schedule Hermione and the four other Grangers had been working out would be a little tricky - breakfast and lunch in the Forest of Dean, the loud and boisterous Weasley household felt even better than usual. This was what a family holiday should be like.

He smiled and leaned back against the couch. "You only realise what you're missing when you're missing it."

"That's not exactly how the saying goes, Ronnie!" Fred was leaning over the back of the couch, grinning at him.

"Shouldn't you be setting the table?"

"Already done!"

"Already?"

"Hey, we're fast. When we want to be." Fred slid over the backrest and sat down next to him. A moment later, George joined him on the other side of Ron.

"And we wouldn't want to be blamed for a delayed dinner. Not when we finally get to meet your mysterious scientist girlfriend," George said.

"And her family, apparently - that's rather unusual, isn't it?" Fred added.

"Mum and Dad know the Grangers," Ron told them.

"Yes… they met when they met with you in secret," Fred said.

"We noticed when they stopped fretting as much as before." George grinned.

"Impressive deduction," Ron said in a flat voice.

Fred snorted. "We might not be police officers…"

"Special police officers!" George interjected.

"...but we aren't stupid."

"Could've fooled me," Ron replied.

They ignored his comment, of course. "Still, Christmas dinner with another family? Is there something you need to tell us?" Fred asked.

"Yes." Ron nodded. "But Hermione's not pregnant, and we aren't announcing our engagement, either."

"Good thing we didn't bet on it, then." George nodded.

Ron snorted. "Who would have bet with you?" Everyone knew better than that - or had inside information already.

"So that means it's another secret. The reason we've been enjoying police protection for several months?" Fred asked.

"Not that it's actually enjoyable. It cramps our style, knowing that we're under observation," George added. "It's not easy to chat up a bird if you know the police are watching your every move."

"Exactly." Fred nodded.

"You want to tell me that you didn't manage to ensure the privacy of your own bedrooms?" Ron shook his head.

"Oh, Ronnie… you can have sex outside your bedroom, you know?"

"You should try it sometime."

"So, what secret will you reveal to us? Government secrets?"

"Are you allowed to do that?"

Ron sighed. And sometimes, you only realised what you hadn't been missing when it annoyed you. "It's not my secret to tell."

"Oh, so it's… Hermione's!"

"Weird name. Like from one of your books. Is that why you like her?"

He shook his head. "That sort of 'interrogation' attempt didn't work on me even before I joined the police."

"Come on. If you're telling us the secret anyway, why wait?"

"So you don't go and blab it to everyone?" Ron scoffed. And they would twist his words so people got the wrong impression.

Of course, the twins weren't taken aback for more than a moment. "Why aren't you with her, anyway? Couples are supposed to come together, aren't they?"

Because Hermione was fetching the Grangers, and having to apparate Ron as well would be an unnecessary burden. In addition to that, having him arrive alone should help with their cover. And there was still some tension between the Grangers, anyway.

"Yes, it doesn't make sense. You didn't come with her, you didn't come with Harry and Ginny…"

"All will be explained once everyone's here," Ron said. "Just have a little patience." Another hour, according to his watch.

Or not, he added to himself when he heard the now familiar sound of Apparition behind him. Why had Hermione apparated directly… It wasn't Hermione.

"Hello, everyone! Oh… are we early?"

Luna was here. With the other Luna.

Great.

* * *

_She took a deep breath and faced them. "Mum, Dad - you need to leave Britain." She said it as she had rehearsed it - firmly and seriously._

"_What?" her father blurted out._

"_Why?" her mother asked._

"_I told you about the Dark Lord, remember?"_

"_The one your friend killed as a baby?" Dad sounded rather doubtful._

"_Yes. Only... he wasn't killed - and he's returned. It was confirmed recently." No need to go into details there. She took a deep breath. "And he'll be coming after me and after you."_

"_What?"_

"_I'm Harry's best friend." Best female friend, but that wasn't an important distinction. "And I'm a muggleborn - he wants to murder us all." And she probably had earned Malfoy's personal enmity. "The Ministry won't be able to protect you; there aren't enough Aurors around." Not that the Ministry would care about muggles, anyway, even if they had the manpower._

"_But…"_

_She went on, talking over her mum. "And we cannot protect the house against magical intruders - not effectively." Not without turning it into an electronic dead zone, but that was neither here nor there. "Or your office."_

"_That's…" Dad looked at Mum. "...disquieting."_

"_More disturbing, though," Mum went on, "is that you didn't include yourself."_

"_I can't go to Australia; Magical Australia is extremely isolationist. Worse than North Korea. Foreign wizards aren't tolerated. That's why it's safe for you." Not even the Dark Lord would provoke the native shamans._

"_Then we go somewhere else! With you!" Mum exclaimed._

_She winced. "I can't leave."_

"_Why not?" Dad asked._

_Because she was needed for the war. But telling her parents that… "Because Hogwarts is the safest place for me," she lied. "It's protected by Dumbledore."_

_Her parents exchanged a glance, and she winced again._

_This wouldn't be an easy conversation._


	44. Chapter 44: The Christmas Dinner

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 44: The Christmas Dinner**

**Ottery St Mary, Devon, Britain, December 25th, 2005**

The two Lunas had chosen to wear the same outfit, a light blue dress with matching low heels. Same hairstyle and jewellery, too, Ron noticed - wizarding Luna must have duplicated Luna's favourite pieces.

"Two Lunas?" Fred exclaimed.

"You had a long-lost twin you never knew?" George was blinking. "That's the big secret?"

Luna winced as she looked at Ron. "Oh… we ruined the big reveal."

"Hermione will be upset," wizarding Luna added.

"I don't think so," Ron said. It must be tedious repeating the same story all the time. On the other hand, she liked showing off magic…

"The big reveal?" Fred asked. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, hello, Luna. And hello, Luna?" Mum must have heard the commotion. Dad was still in the shed.

"Hello, Molly."

"Hello, Mrs Weasely."

"Mum? You already knew?" George frowned.

Mum frowned at him. "Do you think Ron would dare spring such a surprise on me on Christmas?"

That was a good point, Ron had to admit.

"So, the additional guests are her foster family… wait! You're both called Luna?" Fred looked from one of them to the other. "That's… that would be a hell of a coincidence."

"Why? It's a beautiful name," Luna replied.

"And it fits us perfectly," her counterpart added, "don't you think?"

"Wait a minute!" Fred narrowed his eyes at Ron. "Did you set this up? Did you find a double for Luna?"

What?

"I'm Luna, though, in a way, I guess you could say I'm a double of Luna, too," wizarding Luna said.

"Do you really think I would go to such lengths just to get one over on you?" Ron asked.

"Yes." Fred nodded emphatically.

"And Mum's smiling," George pointed out.

"Well, technically, Ron helped to find Luna," Luna told them. "Although so did I. Technically."

Should he reveal the secret? Or drag things out? It _was _funny to see the twins going spare trying to figure this out… "Well, it's Hermione's story," he said. "We should let her tell it."

"Alright!" the Lunas chorused.

"What? You can't do that! Tell us!" Fred protested.

"Also, how did you manage to sneak into our living room without us noticing?" George asked - rather belatedly, in Ron's opinion.

"We didn't sneak in," wizarding Luna said. "We apparated."

"That's not a word," George retorted.

"I just used it," wizarding Luna told him.

"Just because you don't know a word doesn't mean it doesn't exist," Luna added. "The world would be quite empty if things worked like that."

"Hey!" Fred frowned, though it was close to a pout, too.

Ron grinned - this was very funny indeed.

* * *

"Your theory about cloning experiments was true!" Fred pointed at Luna.

"Of course it's true. But Luna's not a clone."

"Rats." Fred sighed and sat down on the couch again. "I'm out of ideas."

"Me too," George said. "Percy, say something! You're a cog in the government machine, aren't you? You should know something."

Percy, who had arrived half an hour ago, looked up from his notebook. "Hm?" Ron wasn't sure if his elder brother really was 'checking a file' or if this was just a ruse to avoid the twins for a while - not that it would have worked without the distraction the presence of two Lunas provided.

"What do you think is the explanation for _them_!" George pointedly looked at the two women.

"Twins separated at birth?"

"We already thought of that," Fred said.

"Then I can't think of anything." Due to the placement of his notebook on the table, the twins couldn't see Percy's grin as he lowered his head, though Ron could.

It was amusing, but… the others should have started to arrive by now. Ron was getting a little worried. The Russians were still out there, and they had had enough time to make preparations for another attempt - if they dared after the last debacle. Of course, the chance of intercepting people travelling by Apparition was about zero, but Harry, Ginny and Sirius would be travelling by car. A new, better armoured car, fresh from Phoenix Gruppe, but still…

But then he once again heard the sound of someone apparating and saw Hermione standing in the middle of the living room.

"Bloody hell!" "No way!" Fred and George exclaimed - Ron couldn't tell who said what. Even Percy seemed shocked.

"Hermione! We're sorry! We thought dinner would start earlier!" Luna exclaimed.

"We didn't tell them the secret, though," wizarding Luna added.

Hermione looked around. "Oh… alright. I'll go fetch the others, then. I'll be back in a moment!"

And she disappeared - disapparated, Ron corrected himself.

"Your girlfriend built a teleporter!" Fred shouted.

"That's not entirely accurate," Ron told his brother.

"She's an alien?" George gasped.

Before Ron could reply, Hermione reappeared with the first half of the rest of the Grangers. "I'll be right back."

And she was gone again.

Ron eyed the couple in the middle of the living room. It was hard to tell, but… "Good evening, Gabriel, Ellen."

"Good evening, Ron," Gabriel replied. So, Ron had been correct.

Ellen shook her head. "I'll never get used to that."

"You're aliens? Or are you foster-parents to an alien?" Fred went with George's theory.

"What?" Both the Grangers looked confused. "Aliens?"

"You should stop visiting conspiracy theory websites," Luna told the twins. For the life of him, Ron couldn't tell if she was serious or not.

Then Hermione reappeared with the local Grangers.

"Pod people!"

"Aliens!"

"What?" Hermione looked around, then focused on Ron.

He chuckled. "They have a vivid imagination."

She huffed. "Alright. I'm not an alien. I'm a witch," she told the twins and Percy, who had been remarkably quiet so far. She raised her wand. "Let me demonstrate…"

"Not with the china!" Mum interrupted her. "The table's already set."

Hermione blinked, then eyed the small table next to the couch. A wave of her wand later, the newspapers on it had turned into birds and started to fly around.

"And I'm a witch, too!" wizarding Luna added, drawing her wand.

She didn't turn newspapers into birds, though - she turned the small table into a tiger. A huge and very much alive tiger.

"Luna!" Hermione snapped while everyone took a few steps back. Including Ron - he trusted Hermione and wizarding Luna, but… if there was a very large predator standing very close to him, a little distance went a long way.

"What?"

"Don't scare them," Hermione told her while the tiger started hunting the newspaper-birds.

With, in hindsight, predictable results. The living room wasn't made to handle a few hundred pounds of cat jumping around.

On the other hand, Hermione got to demonstrate the Mending Charm. Several times.

Once the living room had been restored and both tiger and birds changed back, she took a deep breath and addressed Ron's three brothers again. "As we have demonstrated, Luna and I are witches. And as you might suspect, we're from a parallel universe. Seven years ago, I was stranded here by accident and mistaken for this world's missing Hermione. Following that..."

* * *

"...and that's about it," Hermione finished her story. She didn't look annoyed - well, not at repeating her story.

"So… you created a way to travel to other worlds. With magic." Fred nodded.

"And quantum physics," Hermione corrected him.

"It's a portal," wizarding Luna added. "You just step through and you're in another world."

"Yes, yes." Fred was starting to sound rather annoyed, Ron noticed with no small amount of satisfaction. "And a Russian figuring that out is the reason we've been enjoying the protection of Ronnikin's co-workers."

Ron refrained from pointing out that CI5 wasn't responsible for their protection, not any more, and that he'd also soon have officially quit, too.

"It's a little more complicated than that, but, essentially, yes," Hermione said. "And I'm very sorry about that - it was never my intention to drag you into this situation."

"Yes. You were quite abrasive the first time we met," Ron said with a soft smile.

"Sorry," she told him, smiling as well.

Fred sighed theatrically. "Young love." He cleared his throat. "But now that we've finally been informed about this situation about which everyone else was already in the know…"

"I wasn't," Percy said.

Fred rolled his eyes. "...that _almost _everyone else already knew about, I have to say…" He trailed off, blinking. "I actually don't know what to say. This is just too fantastical."

To see Fred at a loss for words was another rare occasion.

"Can we go and meet our counterparts?" George asked.

"Capital idea!" Fred agreed at once.

"I'd rather you didn't," Percy told them. "We wouldn't want to start a war with another dimension, now would we?"

"Hey! " Fred put on an affronted air. "It wasn't us who started a war with Russia."

"Officially," Dad cut in, "Russia wasn't involved at all - it was just a conflict between criminal organisations."

"That description certainly fits the Russian government. And ours as well," Luna replied. "Putin's being quite honest for a change."

Ron snorted at that.

"Speaking of Putin," Hermione said, "he's the key to sorting this out and allowing you to lead normal lives."

"Or as normal as your lives get," Ron added.

"As I understand it," Percy commented in a slightly nasal tone, "there's also Her Majesty's Government, who are expecting revolutionary technology from you."

"That, too," Hermione said, wincing.

"Bloody bean counters," Sirius, who had arrived with Harry and Ginny during Hermione's story, mumbled.

"Forget that for a moment - how exactly are you planning to deal with the president of Russia?" George asked.

"Well, we have a few ideas," Hermione replied.

"I wanted to simply use a Disillusionment Charm, apparate next to Putin and use a False Memory Charm to make him think he wanted to call everyone who knows about the portal, then obliviate them as they appear," wizarding Luna said with a pout, "but Hermione claims that wouldn't work."

"A what?" Fred asked.

"A Disillusionment Charm turns you invisible," Ron explained. "Apparition allows you to teleport. A False Memory Charm lets you change someone's memories, and Obliviation is a way to wipe someone's memory. Selectively," he added.

"Blimey." George shook his head, obviously impressed. Then he turned to Fred. "Ronnie's love for D&D finally came in handy. Who'd have thought, huh?"

"Shocking," Fred agreed, shaking his head.

Ron rolled his eyes. D&D was a great game, and he had had a lot of fun in his teenage years playing it.

"But Ron's questionable taste in entertainment aside, why wouldn't that plan work?" Fred asked.

"For several reasons," Hermione replied. "Most importantly, we have to assume that Putin is aware of the threat of invisible or teleporting assailants, even though he might assume that it's a technology I've developed, rather than magic. And that means that he'll have guards prepared for such intruders. Without knowing what we face, apparating into the Kremlin would be a disaster, even with magic at our disposal."

"You were observed using a Disillusionment Charm while you were in Russia." Percy had connected the dots.

"That's not entirely correct," Hermione said, frowning. "I miscalculated the duration of some Shrinking Solution and was captured as a result. Ron saved me, but he was observed returning to his natural size. And while we don't know how much the surviving witness saw and how he interpreted Ron appearing in a locked room, we have to assume the worst: that Putin is prepared for Apparition and Disillusionment Charms, and probably for the Shrinking Solution as well."

"Which complicates matters," Luna said. "Although it'll be a nice trial run for saving the rainforest and other natural habitats under siege by greedy corporations and the corrupt governments they control."

"What?" Percy looked alarmed for the first time this evening. "What do you mean?" he asked, staring at the Lunas. His brother must be very concerned, Ron realised - like his parents, Percy usually politely ignored Luna's political statements during the Weasley Christmas dinner. And on any other occasion, ever since Ron's memorable eighteenth birthday party.

"We'll be saving all the endangered animals in this world by protecting their habitats!" wizarding Luna announced. "We'll have to deal with a lot of muggle leaders for that, though, so this is good training."

"I thought you abandoned the plan to use such charms on muggles in favour of working through the press, Luna!" Hermione exclaimed.

"We did," wizarding Luna replied. "But we never said that we wouldn't also use other means of persuasion."

"'Other means of persuasion'?" Dad looked concerned as well.

"Blackmail," Luna explained with a fierce grin. "We'll ferret out people's darkest secrets, and use that to control them."

"Ah. That's…" Dad looked at a loss for words.

"A remarkably efficient and delightfully ironic plan," George said.

"Yes!" Luna agreed. "Although after Hermione's explanation, it's clear that our current plans will need to be revised."

"You aren't planning to attack Putin, are you?" Mum looked tense. Dad was touching her shoulder - that wasn't a good sign.

"We'll be working closely with Dumbledore," Ron interjected.

"You were working closely with him when you were all almost killed in Russia!" Mum blurted out.

He winced - it seemed that Mum and Dad didn't trust Dumbledore's competence as much as they used to. Or as much as he had thought.

"I didn't have a wand," Hermione interjected. "That is no longer the case. And my wizarding friends will help."

"Some of them, at least," Luna said.

"Oh! Does that include our counterparts?"

Looking at Fred's eager expression, Ron realised that he had found something that was scarier than Luna and wizarding Luna plotting together.

"Ah…" Hermione seemed to share his fear. As did Percy, Ron's parents and Hermione's parents. The other Grangers looked confused, and the Lunas...

...apparently were delighted. "Oh, yes!" wizarding Luna announced with a wide smile. "We all worked together during the war against the Dark Lord! They'll help us against this tyrant, too!"

Luna obviously had started teaching her counterpart her own particular take on politics.

"Enough of these plans for war!" Mum announced. "Dinner's ready. It's Christmas." She frowned at the twins, but also at Ron.

He knew what that meant - they should behave, or else. Which was, while understandable, more than a little unfair - this wasn't Ron's fault!

But everyone else was either a guest and, therefore, exempt, Mum's only daughter and, therefore, spoilt, or Percy.

Though Ron didn't mind being singled out too much - it was Christmas, after all.

And Mum had cooked up a feast.

"But our Daddies aren't here, yet," Luna protested.

"I can fetch them!" wizarding Luna said. She disapparated before anyone could say anything, and reappeared with Xenophon and wizarding Luna's father. Both of the men wore clothes that would've been more at home on an army base, so Ron assumed that Xenophon had loaned his surplus fatigues to Mr Lovegood.

Fortunately, Mum had stopped complaining about what Xenophon called his 'urban guerrilla fashion' long ago, so dinner wasn't marred by another heated discussion.

* * *

"So… now that we've enjoyed Mum's cooking, can we talk about how we're supposed to deal with Putin and his army of spies, assassins, soldiers… well, his army, basically?" Fred asked as soon as he had finished his pudding.

"Yes," George added, nodding. "So far, we've mostly heard what we wouldn't be doing."

"_You_ won't be doing anything," Mum said, glaring at the twins. "This is not a joke."

"Oi!" Fred protested. "It's not tennis, either!"

"Hey! I can do more than just play tennis!" Ginny glared at him. "And I've been training for months with the others!"

Which Mum wasn't happy about. At all. Ron studiously avoided looking at her.

The twins, though, had the same expression Ginny had when told she couldn't do something. "We can train as well, then."

"If Ginny can do it, we can do it too."

"I'm a professional athlete. You two are couch potatoes," Ginny retorted. "Even Hermione is in better shape!"

Hermione didn't appreciate the comment, Ron could tell from the way her lips pursed. "As I said, we will have to plan this thoroughly with Dumbledore. We need his information and experience. So any planning done here would be pointless."

"But we could plan how to save the planet," Luna cut in. "We don't need Dumbledore for that. Well, his files about all the dirty secrets of the so-called leaders would help, of course, but they aren't required for most of our targets."

"I have to point out - again - that tampering with foreign and domestic reserves shouldn't be done without a careful evaluation of the possible consequences, both politically and economically," Percy said. "Closing off reserves to human travel would have negative effects on tourism in many countries - a lot of people depend on it."

"And a lot of animals depend on safe habitats!" Luna retorted. "Safe from humans and corporations!"

"Yes!" Wizarding Luna nodded emphatically. "The muggles will just have to find something else to do."

"In many countries, they can't easily 'find something else'," Percy told them. "For far too many people in the developing world, work in the tourism industry is all that keeps them from starving."

"And that is because of the actions of our corporations and corrupt governments," Luna retorted. "Nature shouldn't pay the price for their sins."

"Neither should indigenous people and their families," Hermione pointed out.

"Then we have to fix that, too!" wizarding Luna exclaimed.

"Yes," Luna agreed at once.

"You can't just wave your magic wand and change the world," Percy told them.

"Of course we can. Even a small change is a change to the world," wizarding Luna replied.

"But you're bound to make things worse if you just use magic without any idea of the likely repercussions," Percy snapped. "What happens in foreign countries can have unforeseen consequences in Britain - or anywhere else."

"Reckless magic can have devastating consequences, as you know from History of Magic," Hermione said.

"But we won't be reckless!" wizarding Luna protested.

"And if forcing a corporation to stop exploiting African countries and logging of the rainforest has such drastic consequences, then that still doesn't mean it's wrong to do so - doing the right thing isn't wrong!" Luna huffed.

"But even doing the right thing should be done carefully, and with a good plan," Hermione told them. "First, do no harm."

"Sometimes, you have to cut someone to perform life-saving surgery," Luna retorted.

"Not if you have the right potion or spell," wizarding Luna pointed out, earning herself a frown from both Hermione and Luna.

"You can't let your fear of making a mistake cripple you," Luna went on. "Leaving things to continue as they are would be worse. Not just morally."

Hermione pressed her lips together but nodded in agreement. "Yes. But that doesn't mean you should be hasty."

"Then let's start planning!" Wizarding Luna beamed. "How do you save the animals and their habitats without harming people?"

Mum was glaring at him again, Ron noticed, even though this wasn't his fault at all.

* * *

"...and that's why you need tourism: it provides the local population with alternatives to illegal logging or poaching," Percy finished a statement that would have fit Parliament better than the Weasley Christmas dinner.

"There wouldn't be illegal logging without corporations," Luna countered. "Or if people didn't buy wood and other products from illegal plantations built on illegally logged areas. Removing demand works."

"The only way to remove demand is to present a cheaper alternative," Hermione said. "Prohibition and the so-called 'War on Drugs' has proved that. And even if the wood were worthless, the cash crops planted on cleared forests will find buyers."

"But that's exactly why we need to ward the reserves. Nothing else will keep greedy people out of the woods!" Luna told her.

Ron cleared his throat. "We're going in circles. Let's change the subject."

That earned him a glare from Luna, Hermione and Percy. But Mum smiled.

"Anyway," he said, "did I mention that Fred and George's counterparts are married?"

"What?" Fred looked surprised.

"Married?" So did George.

"Oh, yes!" wizarding Luna cut in. "They have the cutest daughter, too! Beatrice."

"Daughter, singular?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. Well, Ron should have expected that.

"Yes," wizarding Luna confirmed.

"What?" Mum leaned forward. "How does that work?"

"Both of them married Angelina. Angelina Johnson - well, Angelina Weasley, now."

"That's possible in your world?" Percy asked.

"Apparently they managed it," Hermione commented, "although I don't know how."

"I think they used magical ink on the marriage certificate," wizarding Luna said. "And, somehow, fooled the Ministry's check for that sort of magic."

"Perhaps they used muggle magical ink," Hermione suggested. "I bet the Ministry wouldn't catch that."

"But… if it's not legal, why hasn't your government annulled the marriage?" Percy sounded as if he couldn't believe it.

"The Ministry of Magic has a long tradition of bending or ignoring the law in favour of those in power or those related to them," Hermione said with a frown. "The Weasley family has become very influential in the Ministry following the war against Voldemort."

"Actually, they cannot annul it. Not legally," wizarding Luna remarked. "The Ministry cannot annul a recognised marriage without a petition from an aggrieved party. I think that was the result of a Black's attempt to sabotage a rival family's recent marriages or something."

"But that's…" Percy shook his head while Sirius grinned.

"That's Wizarding Britain for you," Hermione told him.

"Well, as long as they love each other…" Dad said with a smile.

"They aren't the only Weasleys already married," Ron cut in. "Bill's married to Fleur, a French witch. They have a daughter, Victoire. My counterpart married Lavender's counterpart. They have a son, Roger, and another child on the way. And Ginny's counterpart married Harry's counterpart. They have twins, Jean and James."

"Oh!" Mum was smiling widely again. "What about Percy? The other Percy, I mean."

"He's dating Penelope Clearwater," Hermione said.

"Oh! Did you hear that, Percy?"

Percy, their Percy, was frowning, Ron noticed. "Yes, I did. And things are obviously different here. I've never met a woman with that name."

"I could find her, I think," Luna said with a smile.

"Thank you for the offer, but that won't be necessary," Percy replied, "and, more importantly, trying to track down the local counterparts of our counterparts' significant others could endanger operational security."

"Oh, right," Luna agreed.

Ron glanced at Xenophon - this was usually where Luna's father would comment about the government's surveillance and other dirty secrets - but the man was in deep discussion with his counterpart and the Grangers.

Which was sort of worrying, now that Ron thought about it.

"It's obvious that there are significant differences between us and our counterparts," Fred spoke up.

"Indeed," George agreed. "Can you see us married? Or Bill?" he scoffed.

"Yes," wizarding Luna replied earnestly. "Quite easily."

It seemed that the twins didn't have an answer for that.

* * *

"Drive safely!" Mum said, waving at Harry, Ginny and Sirius as they got into their car.

"Don't worry, we won't let Ginny drive!" Sirius replied, followed by a "Hey!" from her.

Now only the Grangers - and Ron and Hermione - were left. And Mum and Dad, of course. But Ron and the others would be leaving soon as well - it was almost midnight, after all. He sighed. It had been a nice Christmas dinner. Peaceful, relatively.

"Thank you for having us, Mrs Weasley. It was a wonderful dinner," Hermione said.

"The more, the merrier," Dad told her. "Although, as we heard today, there could've been even more people."

"I hope the boys take this to heart," Mum said. "If their counterparts can marry and have kids, then so can they."

"As Fred and George mentioned, it's not the best time to meet new people," Hermione pointed out. "Not when you're under police protection."

"That didn't stop you," Mum said, smiling at them.

"I think those were extraordinary circumstances," Hermione replied. "But we're working on dealing with this so you can go back to having normal lives."

"As normal as the twins' lives ever are," Ron added with a snort.

"Well, they haven't dated the same girl yet," Dad said.

They actually had during school, or so they had claimed - but the girl supposedly hadn't known that she was dating both of them and not just George. But that wasn't something to tell the parents.

"I would even accept that, as long as they settled down!" Mum exclaimed, then looked surprised at herself.

Everyone smiled at that.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, December 25th, 2005**

"Good night, Mum, Dad."

"Good night, Gabriel, Ellen."

"Good night, Hermione. Good night, Ron."

"Good night."

The door closed behind the Grangers, and Ron heard Hermione sigh. "Are you tired?" he asked. She had apparated her other set of parents to London before taking Ron and the others back to the laboratory.

"Not physically," she replied. "Just…" She shrugged. "It's been a little more lively than I had expected."

He chuckled. "That's our family for you."

"Yes."

"Didn't the other Weasleys have Christmas dinners?" Ron would have thought they did; they certainly seemed as close-knit, or more so, than his own family.

"The only time I celebrated Christmas with them, we were at Grimmauld Place." She smiled ruefully. "The war had already started, at least for the Order, and we had to deal with casualties. It wasn't a good holiday."

He nodded - he could imagine that. Although… "Even with the twins?"

"They did try to 'liven things up', but even they didn't want to overdo it. Mrs Weasley was very stressed."

"Ah." He nodded. "Mum took a long time to accept that I might get shot at in my line of work." He sighed himself. "So… want to take a walk?"

"And stress MI5's guards?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"I was thinking about a more private spot."

"Ah." She nodded with a smile. "I think that's a good idea."

They went into their room, and a minute later, stepped out of the tent in the Forest of Dean.

"The spells I left should be keeping people away," Hermione commented - she must have noticed that he had his hand near his gun, Ron realised.

He shrugged. "Never hurts to be cautious."

"The only people who could find this spot are Luna and me."

"The only people we know of," he corrected her.

"Do you think someone managed to slip through the portal?" She cocked her head at him. Probably frowning.

"I think we're better safe than sorry."

She scoffed but didn't contradict him further. "Speaking of Luna… the Lunas." She shook her head. "With all the shared names, we should find a standard terminology. Or define one."

"We could number them? Ron One and Ron Two?" He chuckled at his own joke.

"And who'd be number one?"

"Us, of course," he told her.

"Really. We're from different worlds."

He swallowed the first thought that came to mind - she had no counterpart, so she didn't need a number. "We can have our world adopt you."

It made her laugh. Briefly. Then she sighed. "Back to the Lunas. What are they doing?"

"I have no idea," he replied honestly. "But I know that Luna won't give up her plans. Not when she finally sees a way to achieve some of her goals. And Xenophon will support her."

"Or egg her on." She sighed again. "The vexing thing is, they're not wrong. Not entirely. Something needs to be done about preserving nature. I'm just not sure if they're on the right path."

"I can't see it working. Not with just Luna."

"She said that they're planning to use the press," Hermione pointed out.

That wouldn't be enough, in Ron's opinion. But Luna probably had a plan. And her counterpart did have magic at her disposal. "Well, a press campaign would probably keep them busy for some time."

"Yes." After a few seconds, she added: "Let's walk a little. There's a deer crossing nearby."

* * *

Half an hour later, they were back in the clearing. It hadn't been a relaxing stroll - the crossing was too narrow for them to walk next to each other, and Hermione had insisted on taking point since she knew the area from her world's Forest of Dean. Which went against Ron's instincts and training. And the snow didn't make walking any easier, either.

On the other hand, their walk had helped clear his head, and Ron took a few deep breaths once they were back under the open sky. "Ah."

She stepped up next to him, and he felt her arm wrap around his waist.

"Sorry about telling Mum about our counterparts' families, by the way," he said. "I should have realised she'd expect us to marry now."

He felt her shrug. "She wasn't pushy about it."

"Not by her standards, you mean."

She snorted. "She means well. I'm not sure how I'd cope if my children were risking their lives."

He wanted to ask if that meant she was contemplating having children. And marriage - that usually went with having kids, didn't it? But he didn't. That would be pushing things. And he wasn't sure if he wanted kids, anyway. Well, he did, but… not urgently. Or something. He suppressed a snort - that would've given her the wrong impression. "I'm sure you'd handle it well," he said instead, "but I hope they wouldn't risk their lives in the first place."

"We can only hope." He felt her lean into him again, then slide around him into a hug. And a kiss.

It was a good thing they were so close to the tent.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, December 26th, 2005**

"Good morning. I hope you've had a great Christmas." Dumbledore was all smiles as he greeted them in the recently installed conference room - they hadn't merely rebuilt the damaged parts of the resort, but used the opportunity to remodel. And, Ron would bet, to install better surveillance and security.

Grindelwald, who was also present, nodded curtly. If he had had a great Christmas, it certainly hadn't affected his mood - he was still as grumpy as ever.

'Grumpy Old Men' - Ron had to suppress a grin at the thought. Dumbledore would see the humour, but Ron was sure that Grindelwald wouldn't.

"We enjoyed the Weasley Christmas dinner very much, thank you," Hermione said.

"As you enjoyed spreading top secret information?" Grindelwald asked with a scowl. A scowl that deepened when Luna agreed with a smile.

"Mr Weasley's brothers struck me as very ingenious people; they would certainly have investigated on their own, possibly causing more trouble - after all, they would naturally be curious about the reasons for the protection they are currently receiving," Dumbledore said. "It's better to release information under controlled circumstances than to hope for the best."

Grindelwald scoffed but didn't contradict his partner, which Ron took to mean that the German agreed in his cantankerous way. Luna, of course, nodded emphatically at the notion of releasing information.

"Oh, yes," Sirius, who, with Harry and Ginny, had been fetched by Hermione, nodded as well. "The trouble those two got up to in the past…" He shook his head.

"No worse than you and Dad," Harry muttered.

"We were almost never caught," Sirius retorted, "so I have to insist that they are worse than we ever were."

"But the twins might have done more than you did, which would even things out," Ginny pointed out.

"Do you really think that they would keep their deeds secret instead of bragging?" Sirius shook his head. "No, James and I still remain on top."

"They might need to wait until the statute of limitations has run out," Ginny said.

Ron chuckled at her joke. Well, he hoped that it was a joke.

"If we could start?" Grindelwald said, apparently ignoring Dumbledore's slight frown.

"Of course," Hermione replied at once. "There's a lot to discuss."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Four main items, I would say. Our upcoming trip to Magical Prussia, the need to hire a Healer, the Russian problem and Misses Lovegoods' plans to save the planet."

"Travelling to Magical Prussia isn't a problem," Hermione said. "We can fly to Berlin and then enter the Alte Strasse, Berlin's magical quarter."

"Like Diagon Alley, just Prussian," wizarding Luna added.

"Your trip to Diagon Alley caused some trouble," Harry pointed out.

Ron saw Hermione wince at the reminder of their mistake. "That was because I neglected to update my information. That won't happen with this trip."

"I've been there before," wizarding Luna said. "A few years ago."

"You have?" Hermione sounded surprised.

"Oh, yes. It's a lovely place. Although the Prussians have a very intolerant policy towards plants and animals," she added with a frown.

That sounded a little ominous, in Ron's opinion. In Hermione's as well, since she asked: "Ah. Did you have trouble with the authorities?"

"Nothing serious," Luna told her with a smile. "Kingsley got the ban lifted, and the ICW ruled in my favour concerning the threatened habitats of the Prussian Stone Louse." She frowned. "Really, a few buildings are a small price to pay to preserve such cute animals."

"Loriot's Stone Louse is real?" Grindelwald blurted out.

"Who is Loriot?" Luna asked.

"A German comedian Gellert is fond of," Dumbledore explained. "I had the impression his stone louse sketch was fictional myself, but, apparently, it isn't."

"They showed a magical creature on TV? In this world?" Hermione looked flabbergasted.

"It was a cartoon depiction," Dumbledore told her. "But it is peculiar indeed."

"Next you'll tell me Bielefeld is magical," Gellert grumbled.

"Bielefeld doesn't exist," Dumbledore said, with a brief chuckle. "An old joke started ten years ago, I believe."

"It was an attempt to discredit whistleblowers by making fun of conspiracies," Luna said with a scowl. "A well-planned and perpetuated operation of the MAD."

Dumbledore inclined his head with a smile. "I don't know about such an operation, but I don't have as many contacts among my German colleagues as I used to."

Grindelwald was less polite and sneered at Luna, but at least he refrained from voicing his opinion. Luna met his glare with one of her own.

Hermione cleared her throat. "So… what exactly happened in Berlin?"

"I helped create a Stone Louse Reserve," wizarding Luna said. "We have to visit it when we are in the Alte Strasse. It's fascinating how quickly the little cuties can eat through stone and concrete when they aren't threatened with extinction by spells."

"That reserve…" Hermione looked a little queasy. "Would that have been composed of formerly occupied buildings in Berlin?"

"Yes, of course - Prussian Stone Louses prefer dressed stone and concrete to rocks. But the owners were all compensated. I think." Luna shrugged. "As I said, a small price to pay to save a species."

In hindsight, Ron shouldn't be surprised, given her plans for his own world's reserves.

"Let's hope that the Healer we're seeking wasn't living there," Hermione said. "Our chances aren't good to find one in Prussia to begin with. In any case, we'll have to be careful and sound out the local Healers."

"Your friends don't have contacts in Prussia?" Grindelwald asked.

"None that would be able to refer us to a discreet Healer willing to work abroad," she replied.

"The intelligence services of Wizarding Britain seem to be lacking in foreign sources," Dumbledore said.

"There isn't an intelligence service in Wizarding Britain," Hermione said. "Not an official one, at least. And what unofficial sources there are would likely be personal contacts of individual Ministry employees."

"How refreshing - although I would presume continuity of operations will be a problem," Dumbledore commented.

"It's not the only problem the Ministry has," Hermione muttered. "But the magical countries tend to be more insular than the muggle ones. Most international politics is handled by the ICW, which is focused on upholding the Statute of Secrecy and otherwise has a policy of non-intervention."

"I see."

"The war would have been different if we'd had international support. Very different."

* * *

"_What did the French say?" she asked as soon as Ron had handed over the potions he had brought. His slight hesitation told her enough. "They won't help, will they?"_

_Ron sighed. "Fleur said her family's sending help."_

"_But not the Duc."_

"_No. 'France won't get involved in another country's internal matters'." He wasn't imitating Fleur's accent, but she could hear the Veela's voice anyway._

"_Don't they realise that the Dark Lord won't stop with Britain?" She stood after stashing the potions in the trunk and shook her head. "That's exactly how Grindelwald gained enough power to threaten all of Magical Europe - he took a few isolated countries and combined their resources." And recruited heavily among muggleborns, of course. "How can they be so short-sighted?"_

_Ron shrugged. "Fleur said the Duc fears the precedent it would set. No one wants other countries to intervene in their own internal affairs."_

_And didn't that paint a lovely picture of the state of Magical Europe? She pressed her lips together. No wonder Dumbledore had prepared safe houses in Britain, and not abroad, for the muggleborns._

"_Hey, cheer up," Ron told her with a smile. "We're no worse off than before - and it means the Dark Lord won't get any help, either."_

_And that said even worse things about the other countries._


	45. Chapter 45: The Trip to Berlin

Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. Their help is invaluable.

* * *

**Chapter 45: The Trip to Berlin**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, December 26th, 2005**

"Now, with regards to the 'Russian problem', as you called it, we have far more options now that I've obtained a wand and made contact with my friends, but we still need more information to make plans," Hermione said. "Putin will be prepared for some of our past tricks."

"It doesn't pay to underestimate the Russians," Grindelwald agreed.

"That is true, although I have to point out that we don't have as many assets in Russia as we should have for a move against Putin himself," Dumbledore replied. "Possibly enough, though, or so I hope, to gain sufficient intel to gather more through magical means."

The old man talked about magic as if it were normal. So much for old people being stuck in their ways, Ron thought.

"Do you know Legilimency?" wizarding Luna asked. "I've always wanted to learn it, but I haven't yet had the time."

"No, I don't," Hermione said, with that twitch to her jaw muscles that she always had when admitting that she didn't know something. "But we can use Veritaserum."

"Ah, right! That's not illegal here, either!" wizarding Luna said, nodding. "I almost forgot."

"We need some of that as well, I think," Luna said.

"I can get some - Daddy knows some good potioneers," her counterpart replied.

Ron could imagine what use Luna would get out of that, though she probably had a few more in mind he hadn't thought of. "Kidnapping someone for interrogation with Veritaserum will be tricky," he said.

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "They'll be missing, or at least drugged, for hours. That will draw attention."

"Not if we plan it well," Dumbledore contradicted her. "A known drunk sleeping off his hangover?" He shook his head. "Nothing suspicious there."

"And most Russians are drunks," Grindelwald added. "Though the worst of them won't be trusted by Putin with any crucial information. He isn't stupid."

"Quite. But even those who aren't trusted know valuable intel - provided one can put the pieces together," Dumbledore pointed out.

Grindelwald scowled at that, Ron noticed, but that only seemed to make Dumbledore smile more.

"Be that as it may, we can't make any detailed plans without more intel," Hermione said. "However, I can give you an overview of the magical means at our disposal: We can disillusion ourselves, apparate, erase and replace memories, compel people to act in a certain way by modifying their memories, duplicate and conjure things such as valuables and take the form of others for an hour, or longer. We've also now acquired flying brooms, and we can shrink people and gear easily, and house a squad or more in a tent, hidden from muggle senses. And we can cast spells on an area that will make muggles ignore it. Those are just the main spells and tools we have now."

Dumbledore beamed. "If I'd had those at my disposal when I was in Her Majesty's service… I dare say history would have happened differently. Britain's foes wouldn't have known what hit them."

"Does that include the Yankees?" Grindelwald asked.

"I would hope not." This time, Dumbledore's smile slipped a little, and Grindelwald grinned.

"Oh…" Luna was beaming. Probably at the hint of buried secrets, Ron thought. Or - and his stomach started to sink - she had realised that wizarding Luna had access to all of those spells, potions and items as well.

They really needed to sort out the two Lunas' plans. That was the next item, wasn't it? Ron cleared his throat. "Speaking of areas enchanted to turn away people…"

"Oh! We haven't had time, yet, to turn Parkinson Manor into a nature reserve, but we'll do so as soon as possible," Luna said.

"Oh, yes!" Sirius exclaimed with a chuckle. "They deserve that - stuck-up wankers, the lot of them!"

"Do you plan to influence the Parkinsons and the Malfoys to consider it their decision to stop working their lands?" Dumbledore asked.

"We have to," Luna said, "or they'll blame their staff. And that would mean the workers wouldn't get compensation for being fired."

"Yes," wizarding Luna agreed. "Usually, muggles make up excuses themselves when affected by Muggle-Repelling Charms, but since the Malfoys, and I assume the Parkinsons, rarely visit, much less work on, their lands, that wouldn't happen here."

"Ah." Dumbledore nodded. "That's good to know."

"Yes." Wizarding Luna nodded with a wide smile. "We don't want to hurt the muggles if we can help it."

"A laudable stance. Although you might not be able to avoid hurting people," Dumbledore said.

Luna matched the old man's gaze. "Something you're very familiar with, right?"

"Yes."

The two were really far too close for comfort, in Ron's opinion.

* * *

**Alte Strasse, Berlin, Magical Prussia, December 27th, 2005**

"This brings back memories," Ron heard Grindelwald say as they walked down the main street of Berlin's magical quarter. "It's like the last sixty years never happened."

"The area wasn't touched by the war," Hermione explained. "This world's Grindelwald had it covered by wards strong enough to repel or divert even massed attacks by strategic bombers."

"Divert?" Grindelwald shook his head. "That would explain why the streets next to it were completely destroyed during the war."

"And the Muggle-Repelling Charms kept the Red Army and the Wehrmacht from entering the area, I presume," Dumbledore said. Like everyone else in their group, the old man was in disguise. A fake beard, inserts to make his face appear rounder, and makeup to mask its contours. Impressive, though not perfect - although, as the former spymaster had said, it just had to be good enough.

"Yes," Hermione, who was wearing a blonde wig again, confirmed. "There was some fighting during the end of Grindelwald's reign, but the damage was repaired."

Which meant that the patch of rubble they saw in front of them - covering enough ground for three houses - was the Stone Louse Sanctuary. To think that wizarding Luna had managed to create ruins where two wars had failed to make a lasting change…

"Oh! It's feeding time! Look!" the witch in question exclaimed. She was already rushing to the fence surrounding the area, where a wizard in grey robes was waving his wand around. "Look! Look!" Luna, who was wearing the same disguise and looked like her twin, was already hot on her heels.

Ron exchanged a glance with Hermione, who sighed. "I hope she doesn't break her cover," she muttered as they followed.

"Please stay back," Ron heard the wizard say - in English, fortunately. "These are dangerous animals."

"What? No, they aren't!" wizarding Luna protested. "Well, unless you're a stone statue, I guess. Or petrified - was that ever tested? Do they eat petrified people?"

"No, miss, that hasn't been tested."

"Well, it should be - if you ever have a Basilisk running rampant, you need to know if you have to take extra precautions," wizarding Luna said. "And who knows what ingesting petrified flesh would do to the poor things!"

The German wizard looked about as taken aback as Ron felt. Even for a witch, wizarding Luna was eccentric. Hell, even for a Luna, probably.

"Well, the last Basilisk attack in Prussia happened during the Thirty Years' War," the wizard replied. "And the last in Europe, not counting the Hogwarts incident, was in 1740 in Transylvania."

Apparently, the wizard was an expert on magical creatures. Well, it stood to reason that someone working with such dangerous animals would be well-trained.

"Why don't you count the Hogwarts attack?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Ah, you're British."

"I am, yes," Hermione told him.

"I'm Prussian," Grindelwald cut in. "But it's been a while since I was in the area."

"Ah." For a moment, the other wizard scrutinised the German. Then he nodded. "The attack was never officially confirmed, and there were no deaths. Can you imagine a Basilisk attack without deaths?" He chuckled. "What's next, a vegetarian Nundu?"

Ron chuckled at the - even to him - obvious joke. Hermione didn't. "I was there," she said.

"But did you see the corpse?" The Prussian wizard didn't wait for her answer. "Sounded more like a Medusa having fun to me."

Hermione managed to control her temper, Ron noted with relief.

"Can you feed the poor things now?" wizarding Luna asked. "We don't want to upset their schedule, do we?"

The German wizard looked like he wanted to tell her something but nodded instead. "Alright."

A moment later, the amount of broken stone, bricks and concrete slabs started to multiply.

"Doubling Charm," Hermione, standing next to Ron, whispered.

After about half a minute, during which the rubble grew enough to fill half the lot, the German wizard waved his wand again, and the rubble stopped growing.

"Oh! Look! They're already eating! Must have been starving, the poor things!" wizarding Luna commented. She was holding what looked like a steampunk version of night vision goggles in front of her face and was almost folded in half over the fence that kept spectators away from the rubble.

"You can spot the lice from here?" Hermione asked.

"Yes."

"Those aren't normal Omnioculars, are they?"

"Special enchantment for zooming in," wizarding Luna explained. "Oh! Two lice are fighting over a brick! You should duplicate that brick so there's enough for everyone."

Ron couldn't tell if she was having all of them on. He shook his head, then blinked. There was a small - the size of a credit card, actually - plaque mounted in front of the lot that he had missed until now. 'Stone Louse Reserve'. Nothing else. Wait… He knelt down in front of it and peered at the plaque. In tiny letters, it spelt out: 'Mandated by the ICW in 2002'. It looked like whoever had installed the plaque had been petty or had a sense of humour. Or both.

After watching stone slowly - very slowly - vanishing for about ten minutes, with the Lunas and Hermione sharing the special Omnioculars, they finally left the sanctuary and continued their walk down the main street of the Alte Strasse. Which was, now that Ron thought of it, a little misleading, seeing as it meant 'Old Street' if translated literally, but it was more than a single street.

He snorted - they were here to buy unicorn horns and to find a discreet and possibly unscrupulous Healer, not to ponder German - or Prussian - naming conventions.

"So, now that we have seen the best Magical Prussia has to offer, we're going to see the worst?" wizarding Luna asked.

"I hope not," Hermione replied. "We merely want to purchase a rare ingredient and hire a discreet professional."

"Preferably without getting ambushed by the not so discreet career criminals in the area," Ron said. Harry, Sirius and Ginny were in Berlin proper - it would have been foolish to enter with more people than Hermione and wizarding Luna could transport by Side-Along-Apparition - but the best they could do, should the group get into trouble, was to call the wizarding Weasleys. They weren't really proper reserves, as Sirius had complained.

Well, they weren't fighting a war, at least. And Rin wasn't sure if he'd feel better if Harry and Sirius were with them instead of the two old men - although the chance anyone would see through Harry's disguise and mistake him for his counterpart was probably a little too high, and Sirius's counterpart had once been the most wanted man in both Britain and wizarding Britain. This world's Grindelwald, on the other hand, hadn't been seen for over fifty years before dying in prison and this world's Dumbledore was dead. Or confirmed dead, as the old man would say.

He still had a slightly bad feeling about this. Like an itch that he couldn't scratch.

"I doubt that there are many criminals who would attack half a dozen wizards and witches," Hermione said.

"Not after we took care to look the part," Luna added, running a hand over her 'duellist robes', as Hermione had called the tightly-cut coat-like dark robe with splits from the hem to the waist both in the front and the back.

"And if worst comes to worst, we're not entirely defenceless," Dumbledore said with a rather mischievous smile. "While most of the gadgets shown in certain spy movies are the product of a fertile but impractical imagination, not everything shown there is fictional."

"Oh, yes!" Luna agreed, brandishing what looked like a pen.

"We're still disapparating as a first response to trouble," Hermione told them.

"Unless that's being magically blocked," Ron couldn't resist pointing out, which earned him a frown from her.

"Let's go. 'Bernhards Brockenhaus' should be right around the corner," Hermione said.

It wasn't - they had to walk past a dozen shops, each of them a little grungier than the one before, until they reached an old shop with barred windows and a very solid looking door.

Behind him, he heard Luna ask "What does 'Brockenhaus' mean? Broken House?"

"It's a Swiss term for a thrift shop," Grindelwald explained.

Hermione led the way in, and 'thrift shop' was a very apt description, Ron found - the store was crammed full of stuff. Half of the things Ron could see he didn't recognise at all, and the other half looked decidedly weird. Or 'off'.

"Willkommen im Brockenhaus," the old man behind the counter greeted them. Old wizard, Ron corrected himself - the man had his wand out, next to his hand.

"Guten Tag," Grindelwald returned the greeting, looking around.

"Suchen Sie etwas Bestimmtes?" the clerk asked. Ron didn't have to speak German to know what the man was offering to help them find whatever they were looking for; he knew that tone.

"Wir schauen uns nur mal um," Grindelwald told him.

"Natürlich."

"Don't touch anything," Hermione whispered, "there are strong curses on the wares."

"It must make shopping expensive," Luna said, "if they have to remove a curse every time they sell something."

Ron studied the clerk while the others looked for a unicorn horn. The man didn't react at all to their conversation. Which was why Ron was sure he understood English perfectly - people were usually a little nervous if an armed group of foreigners were in their shop and they had no idea what the group was talking about.

And that the man was trying to hide his grasp of the language instead of trying to use it to make a sale wasn't a good sign, either.

Ron kept an eye on the clerk, which meant he didn't look for a unicorn horn himself. Though he'd expect such a rare item to be prominently displayed in the shop - or not at all. Although it had to be admitted that the sheer variety of goods was a little distracting.

"Oh! A Donnerschlag! They're almost as good as the first model Firebolts, and most of the series are still used by Quidditch teams!" wizarding Luna exclaimed. "At this price, it's a steal!"

Which probably meant that the broom was stolen. Ron knew of a few thrift shops in London which fenced stolen goods. And had the clerk reacted to that?

"Look at this, Gellert!" Dumbledore spoke up. "A vintage Wehrmacht uniform. With a gas mask."

"A Nazi uniform?" Hermione sounded surprised.

"Ein Sammlerstück," the clerk said.

"People collect these?" She shook her head.

"It's a part of our history," Grindelwald told her. "Even though a lot of Germans try to ignore it."

"Fascist fanboys," Luna said with a sneer.

"Not entirely," Dumbledore retorted. "While some are undoubtedly such, either out of ignorance or malice, others are merely overly fond of militaria, and not sufficiently educated in history. And there's also the allure of the forbidden fruit, of course, at least for Germans."

"And some are just stupid, like your youngest royal," Grindelwald added in a snide tone.

"Touché," Dumbledore acknowledged.

"You're British muggleborns." The clerk sounded surprised - and spoke English.

"You might call us that," Dumbledore replied, "though we haven't been in Wizarding Britain for a long time."

Ron refrained from rolling his eyes. The old spymaster was a little too fond of clever wordplay.

"Ich bin Deutscher," Grindelwald said. "Aber es ist eine Weile her seit ich in Preussen war."

"Deutscher." The clerk nodded as if that had a special meaning. Then he glanced at the Nazi uniform. "Haben Sie im Krieg gekämpft?"

He was asking about the war? Oh. He would mean Grindelwald's War, probably.

Grindelwald shrugged. "Nicht an der Front."

"Oh." Once again, the old clerk nodded again, and a small smile appeared on his face.

"Not all of us speak German," Hermione cut in with a frown.

"Sorry," the clerk said. He didn't look sorry in the least.

"We're looking for a unicorn horn," Grindelwald said after a glance at her.

"They're rare." The man sighed. "Ever since the British and the French clamped down on the trade, most people have turned to Prussia. Demand is high."

"We can pay," Grindelwald told him, dropping a purse on the counter.

"There's also the matter of possible repercussions," the clerk said after a glance at the purse. "The Feldjäger don't like it if we sell to dark wizards."

"We're not wanted in Prussia or Britain," Dumbledore replied. "And we won't use it for illegal purposes."

The clerk snorted. "Everyone claims that." He looked at the rest of the group. "Been working in the Americas?"

"Occasionally," Dumbledore replied.

"Fought in the British Civil War?"

"A few of us did - but it was before they joined us."

"I've got a few disagreements with the new regime."

Now Hermione was doing it as well. Ron didn't bother hiding his frown - the clerk would probably think it was aimed at the British Ministry of Magic.

"Ah." The clerk nodded. "They were far too lenient with the bastards. Should've killed them all. Like the bastards tried to do to… Grindelwald's forces."

Of which the old man had been a member, Ron was sure. Which made Grindelwald's presence here a bigger risk than they had thought. Great.

Hermione shrugged. "It's been seven years."

"So, do you have a unicorn horn?" Grindelwald asked, a little sharply.

"If you have the money."

Dumbledore reached out and picked the purse up, then started to pour out the gold inside. "I hope you don't mind Galleons."

"As long as you cover the cost of changing them into Taler…"

It took five minutes of haggling before they had an agreement, and five more minutes of spellcasting until Hermione was satisfied that the horn the clerk finally produced was genuine, but they managed to conclude the deal without ending up in a fight. Or without the clerk seeing through their disguises.

Ron sighed with relief once they were finally out on the street again.

"I'm sure he's a former Storm Wizard," Hermione said. "He all but admitted it."

"We were fortunate that he did not attempt to test our own claims," Dumbledore commented. "He must have had some doubts, but didn't want to risk the sale - or a trap."

"That's understandable - the Storm Wizards were never formally pardoned," Hermione said. "Not even the rank and file. Though not many actually were arrested and prosecuted, at least not in the last few decades."

Luna scoffed. "Like the Nazis."

"I believe the situation is a little more complex than that comparison would suggest," Dumbledore said.

"Grindelwald heavily recruited among the oppressed muggleborns in Europe," Hermione pointed out. "Although even their legitimate grievances didn't excuse the crimes they committed under his command."

Luna scoffed again.

"Well, ancient politics aside, that man is fencing stolen loot and poached animal parts," wizarding Luna said. "It's people like him that keep poachers and thieves in business."

She was frowning, but she didn't seem to be as angry as Ron would have expected.

Hermione must have noticed as well since she quickly cast a privacy charm - Ron was now very familiar with the slight buzzing sound the spell caused. "What did you do, Luna?"

"Uh… nothing?"

"Luna."

"It's best you don't know. Plausible deniability, and all." The witch beamed at them.

"Luna…"

"Really. You can't prove it was me. Besides, if he had been using the proper household spells, he would have been fine. So, it's his fault, really. Twice over."

"Household spells? Luna! You didn't!" Hermione sounded aghast.

"What did she do?" Ron asked. He was missing something. He hadn't seen her cast a spell, but he had been focused on the clerk…

"She must have released Stone Lice in the shop."

"You can't prove it!"

"_I_ neither need nor want to prove it - but the Prussian authorities _will_. They know that we visited the Sanctuary," Hermione pointed out.

"But we're in disguise," wizarding Luna retorted. "If they'd recognised me, they'd be far less polite." She nodded. "The Prussians are still grumpy about the ICW ruling against their greed and in favour of nature."

"And who else would set such lice free?" Hermione shook her head and put both hands on her hips.

"It happened before. That's why all the neighbouring buildings have wards against insects," wizarding Luna replied. "It doesn't do their gardens any good, but they never think of that."

The gardens must be in the back, then. Good to know.

"And the other wizard didn't see through my disguise, either," Grindelwald added. "Or Albus's."

Hermione didn't look very reassured, but Ron didn't think the Prussians would be able to pin this on wizarding Luna - although they might try to make her a scapegoat even without any evidence or clues. He'd seen it before with certain firms blaming Greenpeace for a burglary or accident. "How long will it take the lice to, ah, do anything notable?" he asked.

"A day, probably. The cuties need to reorient themselves first, and find the tastiest stone," wizarding Luna explained.

"We'll be gone by then," Luna said.

"We still need to find a discreet Healer," Dumbledore pointed out.

"And a trustworthy one," Hermione said. "Those qualities do not often go together."

"More often than you might think," the old spymaster retorted, "at least in our world."

"I guess you have a flexible definition of trustworthy," she shot back.

"Oh, most people are trustworthy if you have the right sort of leverage," Grindelwald added. "It's finding that leverage that's the challenge. Although often enough, you just need to make them commit a crime and then force them to incriminate themselves further."

"Indeed." Dumbledore inclined his head. "Although it's best to use a light hand. Force breeds resentment while rewards can brew loyalty."

"We're just going to hire a Healer for one set of treatments," Hermione replied. "We're not going to…" She blinked, then gasped. "No. Are you planning to _force _a Healer into working for you?"

"I'm not actually planning to force anyone to work for us - certainly not someone supposed to keep us healthy. But a little insurance usually never hurts. And a competent, discreet Healer on retainer would be a boon," Dumbledore said. "I would even say they might be a necessity if we happen upon serious trouble. It could save your life."

"But the sort of people who would work in such a position for monetary rewards are also likely to be tempted to leverage their magic for even bigger gains. Such as taking over your group. Or striking out on their own somewhere in our world. Or even betraying us for a reward in the magical world." Hermione shook her head. "It's too dangerous to trust a mercenary when you can't match their magic."

"But you could - and I dare say, Miss Lovegood would be able to as well, wouldn't you?"

"Probably. Unless you are hiring an experienced duellist or dark wizard," wizarding Luna replied. "But we'll be busy saving the planet."

"Yes," Luna cut in. "You'll need someone else to stand guard at the portal."

"Well, the portal itself grants a lot of leverage as the only way home," Dumbledore retorted. "At least as long as Dr Granger is the only one able to open it. Although I trust that you have taken steps to ensure that Miss Lovegood will be able to learn your ritual, should anything happen to you, lest she would become stranded in our world."

But that would also mean Hermione would be, in a way, expendable. Not that Ron expected Dumbledore to try and replace her with wizarding Luna - only a fool would think they could control her. Not with wizarding Luna owing far less, if anything at all, to Dumbledore.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Although this also accelerates our need to open a second portal as a backup site."

Dumbledore smiled. "As soon as you have found a location, we can start construction. A few spells will help with secrecy, I expect. And with tracking down existing leaks, I hope."

Obliviating the workers would certainly cut down on leaks - and unlimited access to Veritaserum would help with finding a traitor as well. Especially if your employees wouldn't remember being drugged and interrogated… They'd need Hermione for that, of course - but that might just be a way to gain more leverage on her, as Grindelwald had mentioned.

Great.

"That still doesn't change the fact that finding a trustworthy Healer will be very difficult," Hermione said. "I would have preferred to hire a muggleborn Healer in Britain - someone who would be unlikely to value the Statute of Secrecy higher than muggles in need of treatment, but, due to my mistake in Knockturn Alley, that avenue is now closed."

"Our mistake," Ron corrected her.

She frowned at him. "I was the one who got impatient, and didn't inform myself about the changes to the area."

"It doesn't matter," Grindelwald said. "What matters is finding a Healer."

"Magical Prussia isn't the best place for that," Hermione replied. "Durmstrang, the best school covering the country, doesn't accept muggleborn students."

"There are no suitable muggleborn Healers, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"Those who managed to receive a Healer's education despite the discrimination are unlikely to risk their careers for strangers," Hermione told him.

"In my experience, a large sum of money tends to solve that particular problem," Grindelwald said with a scoff.

"Even if it did, finding a mercenary who will stay bought isn't easy," Hermione retorted.

"There's no honour among thieves," Luna added, "or among mercenaries. They work for the highest bidder - those who rule the country, either openly or from the shadows."

"And you can't pass as wizards." Hermione shook her head. "Any competent Healer will detect the various non-magical treatments you received in the past, and realise that you're muggles."

She'd said that before, but it bore repeating. He spoke up: "I don't think we'll have much luck here. Most of us don't even speak the language."

"I concur," Dumbledore said. "While Gellert and I would have no trouble with German, we aren't familiar enough with Magical Prussia. We would draw attention, or so I believe."

Grindelwald scoffed but didn't contradict him.

"Not to mention that we should vacate the premises before Luna's little surprise is discovered," Ron added.

"It was always a long shot to find a Healer in Berlin," Hermione said.

"Are we going to France then?" wizarding Luna asked.

"No," Hermione replied. "Our best bet is, in my opinion, the New World. But first, I'll brew Ricklestorf's Restoration Potion."

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, December 28th, 2005**

"That's the potion?" judging by his expression and tone, Grindelwald didn't seem to trust Hermione.

"Yes," she replied. "Perfectly brewed, I might add."

"In your tent."

"Yes. Where I've brewed many other potions of similar complexity." Hermione frowned.

"No one doubts your skill, Doctor. And you have our heartfelt thanks," Dumbledore said with a glance at Grindelwald. "So, do we take this before or after dinner?"

"That doesn't matter - it's magic, not medicine," she told him.

"Then let's wait until after dinner," Grindelwald said.

"You prefer a last meal?" Ron asked, raising his eyebrows.

Dumbledore laughed at his joke - though not very long. Though both Grindelwald and Hermione frowned at Ron.

"It's perfectly safe." She pursed her lips. "Safer than any experimental anti-ageing drug. This potion has been used for decades."

"And that was the main reason unicorns were an endangered species for years," wizarding Luna added. "Too many people wanted to prolong their lives a few more years."

"A quite understandable stance, I have to say," Dumbledore replied. "Who wouldn't want to live a little longer, provided they were healthy?"

"Those who want to live forever, no matter the cost," wizarding Luna told him with an unusually serious - or even sad - expression.

"Like Voldemort," Hermione said. "He split his soul, damning himself to never ever be able to pass on, in his attempt to stave off death. Yet, at the end of the day, death claimed him as well."

"Poetic," Grindelwald said. "But I've never been very religious."

"Well, souls exist. Magic can affect them," Hermione told him. "No one knows what happens after death, though."

The German scoffed.

"I think most people won't be in a hurry to find out," Dumbledore said with a wry smile.

"I'm just saying that there are fates worse than death. Literally," Hermione said. "The Ministry of Magic used to have certain monsters devour a condemned prisoner's soul as the ultimate capital punishment."

"Technically, it's still legal - but they don't do it any more," wizarding Luna said.

"What?" Hermione looked shocked. "They haven't abolished that… that…"

"Not formally."

"First Azkaban, now this…"

Ron could see Hermione's muscles twitch as she clenched her teeth. He reached out to pat her hand.

"Well," Dumbledore spoke up after a moment, "Perhaps we should drink the potions now."

Grindelwald grunted his agreement.

Both unstoppered their vials and raised them in a silent toast before drinking.

Ron watched them. Both gasped a moment after finishing, Dumbledore closing his eyes. Then they trembled before sighing. And did a few wrinkles vanish? Or, at least, grew less pronounced?

"Oh, my." Dumbledore blinked. "This is… marvellous."

* * *

**Greenwich, London, Wizarding Britain, December 29th, 2005**

"Thank you for doing business with us," the shady man behind the counter said in a bad imitation of a clerk in a posh store.

A real clerk in a posh store would have offered to help Ron and Harry with the heavy dresser they were manhandling out of the door.

Struggling with the weight - these antiques were far heavier than modern furniture - Ron merely nodded and focused on not letting the massive thing drop. Hermione's Mending Charm would deal with any sort of damage from such a fall - but the clerk might grow suspicious if they didn't act like they cared about further damage.

Once outside, loading the thing into the rented van, Harry complained. "All this just for some money? When Dumbledore's fencing gold?"

"It's a source of clean money," Ron replied. Harry was correct that selling the magically restored piece of furniture wouldn't bring in much money compared to the old spymaster's budget, but it wouldn't raise any flags, and the money would have a proper paper trail. No one could be expected to have receipts for a piece of furniture bought by their grandparents, after all.

"They don't need laundered money," Harry retorted as they got into the van. "They have to use a fake identity anyway, and we'll be paying in gold."

"Technically, all of us except Hermione and the other Luna will be using fake IDs," Ron told him. And if wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron found out that they'd used fake IDs that matched theirs… "And we'll have to spend money in the USA as well. For a good hotel, at least."

"We could stay in wizarding tents," Harry said as he pulled out of the parking spot.

"That's not as safe there as it'd be here," Ron retorted. What he'd heard about the various wizarding enclaves on the East Coast made the Middle East sound peaceful and rational.

Harry didn't say anything for a little while as they drove towards the Grangers' house. "And I don't like travelling so far from the portal. Or for so long."

"That's why Grindelwald will not be coming with us," Ron replied.

"We'd still be stranded here if something happens in the resort."

"That's also why Dumbledore and Grindelwald are laundering money," Ron pointed out. In theory, they could just use magic to grab what they needed, but paying for things would reduce the risk of catching the attention of the wizarding police - the Aurors. They only needed one of everything, anyway - they could duplicate them, in a pinch. Still, even using magic, setting up a portal site would take time.

Harry grumbled something Ron didn't catch. Probably about them not having to help the old men any more. Well, Ron agreed with him. But Hermione insisted on fulfilling her side of their deal.

Well, he had always wanted to travel to the United States.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, December 29th, 2005**

"I still marvel at how much younger I feel," Dumbledore said as he sat down at the table in the lounge.

"It's mostly the absence of pain," Grindelwald added.

"Even a pain-relieving drug that does not carry the danger of getting addicted to it, or affecting your ability to think, would be a great boon," the former spymaster countered. "But it's more than that - I feel fitter as well."

"Don't try a cartwheel, please. I'd rather not go to America in your place because you've hurt yourself."

Ron had to chuckle at that.

"I'm certain Dr Granger would be able to deal with any wound I might occur."

Grindelwald scoffed.

"Nevertheless, I do feel like a young man of, say, sixty years." Dumbledore smiled widely. "If a few specialised healing spells can improve on that…"

"Are you planning to return to the field?" Luna asked.

"Oh, no!" The old man shook his head as his friend scoffed again. "That's behind me."

"To your great regret," Grindelwald said. "You always loved the field."

"I met you there."

The two old men looked at each other, sharing a smile.

Ron felt more than a little uneasy - was this an act or were the two men actually feeling so comfortable with the group that they'd be so… affectionate in their presence? Or was this a combination of both? Wizarding Luna was beaming at them, and Luna was smiling as well. Although in her case, that didn't have to mean she actually liked them. On the other hand, she had been getting along very well with Dumbledore, especially given their differing view of politics.

Hermione joined them. "I've repaired the dresser. My parents will be looking for a buyer."

"So you could travel to America tomorrow," Grindelwald said.

"No, we can't!" wizarding Luna replied before Hermione could. "We can't miss the New Year's Ball!"

"And we won't find a Healer in two days," Hermione added.

"A few more days won't harm us," Dumbledore said. "We shouldn't rush this, anyway."

Ron clenched his teeth for a moment at the implied criticism of his and Hermione's trip to Knockturn Alley.

"It's too bad you won't be attending," wizarding Luna went on. "It's the biggest party of the year. All my friends will be there. Apart from you."

"Even with the best disguises, I fear our secret would be revealed, should all of us attend the Ministry's ball," Dumbledore told her. "Mr Weasley is expected to attend, as he is already known by the public to be your boyfriend. But us?" He shook his head. "Someone would make the connection."

Ron nodded in agreement. The two Lunas were behaving so similarly, it would be obvious - even assuming Hermione's estimate of the intellectual capability of the average Ministry employee was true.

Though he couldn't help wondering if the trip to war-torn Magical America or the party at the British Ministry of Magic would be more dangerous for him.

* * *

"_Happy New Year."_

"_Happy New Year."_

"_Happy New Year."_

_She raised her glass together with her friends, then took a sip. The champagne was good, but not great. It was the same brand her family had always bought for Christmas and New Year's, and she sighed for a moment, closing her eyes, as she thought of better times. Simpler times. When she hadn't celebrated New Year's in the middle of nowhere inside a hidden wizarding tent._

_Then she emptied the glass and looked at her friend._

"_Let's go," Harry said._

_She nodded. Most of the Death Eaters would be at the Ministry's New Year's party. And most of the remaining Aurors would be guarding it. That meant Diagon Alley would be vulnerable._

_As would Knockturn Alley._


	46. Chapter 46: The New Year's Party

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 46: The New Year's Party**

**Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, December 31st, 2005**

Ron stepped out of the fireplace, stumbling a little, and resisted the urge to whistle. The Ministry's Atrium was dominated by a giant floating '2006' sign - a real-life hologram - that changed colour as it slowly rotated around itself, next to a giant clock in the same style. And hundreds of tiny stars sparkled as they flitted around. Although something was off…

"We should have come earlier," Hermione commented as he stepped up to her side. She flicked her wand to clean some soot off his dress shirt.

"We're early," he replied. The party was supposed to open at eight, and it was a quarter to eight.

"Not early enough," she said as he offered her his arm.

A moment later, the first flashbulb went off, and the other guests started to move towards them. What the… Oh. "Were they just waiting until we joined arms?" he whispered.

"Yes," she replied sotto voce. "At such events, it's customary to ignore people stepping out of the fireplace until they signal that they have officially arrived. No one wants to appear soot-stained in the papers, after all."

"Ah." That would've been nice to know beforehand.

"Sorry."

"No problem."

Then they crossed the cordon line, and everyone wanted to greet Hermione.

"Miss Granger!"

"Hermione!"

"So good to see you!"

"Hello!"

"Hi!"

Hermione kept smiling, although her smile became a little forced - not that Ron thought anyone in the crowd would notice; they wouldn't know her as well as he did. And he couldn't spot any of her friends nearby. She also returned the greetings as they made their way through the crowd to the… buffet, he decided. That would be the best spot for them right now. "Let's get something to eat," he said.

"Good idea."

They were halfway to the buffet when another witch stopped them. "Hermione!"

"Hello, Su."

"I still can't believe it! Did St Mungo's identify the curse that struck you?" She beamed at Hermione. "And hello, Mr Weasley."

"Good evening."

"Su, this is Ronald, my boyfriend. Ronald - this is Su Li. We were in the same year at Hogwarts."

"Ravenclaw! We always thought Hermione should've been in our house."

That explained her nosiness.

"As to your question: I'm making other arrangements for treatment," Hermione told the witch.

"Oh. But will you publish the results?"

"That depends on the results. I don't want my medical history spread all over the Daily Prophet's front page," Hermione replied in a slightly pointed tone.

"Ah. I didn't think of that. But would they really do that? Things have changed since you, ah… disappeared." Now Li's smile started to slip a little.

"I survived." Hermione shrugged.

"But you lived as a muggle for years! Without knowing that you were a witch, or that you had family and friends!"

"I also met Ronald during that time."

Ron flashed the witch a smile.

"Ah, of course."

"And we're a little hungry," Ron said, nodding towards the buffet.

"Ah, yes - it's a great spread. They say Mrs Weasley baked a cake, but the dessert buffet isn't out yet. Although they say that every year, and it has never been confirmed." Li beamed at Hermione once more.

"I don't know if it's true, either."

"It's probably a trick by the twins," Ron said. It sounded like something his brothers or their counterparts would do.

"Oh. You know them? I mean, of course you do, just… I didn't think you were that closely related."

"We're not, but we've already spent some time with the family," he replied.

"Ah."

"And we've met Lavender as well," Hermione said with an obviously fake smile.

"Ah."

They reached the buffet and Li still hadn't found someone else to talk to.

"So, who else from school have you already met?"

"Apart from Harry, Ron and the Weasleys, Luna, of course," Hermione told her.

"Charming girl," Ron cut in.

"Ah." Li was grimacing again.

"Luna was in Ravenclaw as well," Hermione explained. "But she had some trouble with her housemates."

"Some didn't like her," Li said. After a moment, she nodded. "I think I've questioned you enough, haven't I?"

Ron smiled at her attempted joke - politely.

Hermione simply nodded. "Not at all." Although as soon Li had left, she sighed. "House stereotypes are stupid, but sometimes, there's a grain of truth in them. Ravenclaws are said to be more curious than polite."

"I see." Ron nodded. Wizarding Luna was sometimes like that, though even then she was more charming than Li had been. Although that might just be his own bias speaking.

He still didn't like Li.

As he reached for some finger sandwiches, one of the fluttering lights drew closer, almost swooping down on to the sandwich, and he realised that it wasn't a floating lightbulb, but… a pixie?

"A fairy," Hermione corrected him - he must have spoken out loud. "Pixies are a pest, but fairies traditionally serve as decorations at various wizarding events."

"Oh." He took a closer look, and the fairy smiled at him, its wings buzzing as it performed a figure of eight. He stretched his hand out, palm up, and it landed on it, then struck a pose that made him smile.

"They're very vain, so they like performing like this. That's also why they like serving as Christmas tree decorations."

"Oh. Are they sapient?" With such a small brain? On the other hand, he hadn't lost his intellect when he had been shrunk...

"Sentient but not sapient, I think is the correct term. Animal-level intelligence." Hermione shrugged. "You should ask Luna; she's the expert on magical creatures."

"Ah." He looked around, and the fairy flew off again. "Speak of the devil…" There was wizarding Luna, at the other end of the buffet, talking to wizarding Ginny.

"Let's go talk to them," Hermione suggested. "Before we're accosted again."

He nodded - he could already spot people moving towards them.

"There you are!" wizarding Luna exclaimed, then moved to hug both of them - while holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a plate full of mini-cakes in the other. Ron expected to feel some liquid running down his back, but, somehow, she managed not to spill anything.

"Hello, Luna. Hello, Ginny," he said as wizarding Luna withdrew.

"Hello, Ronald." Wizarding Ginny's greeting was not quite as exuberant as wizarding Luna's. At least not towards him - he could see how her smile grew as she looked at Hermione. "Hermione! You came!"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss this," Hermione replied.

"Really?" Wizarding Luna frowned a little. "Wouldn't you prefer a more private celebration?"

Hermione side-stepped the question. "All my wizarding friends are here."

"And a lot of people who want to be your 'friend'," wizarding Ginny added.

"Yes. Su talked more to me today than in a month at Hogwarts," Hermione said.

"Oh, her. She's become as bad a gossip as Parvati and Lavender at their worst." Wizarding Ginny snorted.

"She's just curious," wizarding Luna retorted. "Everyone is. Understandably so, of course. It's an incredible story."

Ron narrowed his eyes slightly - was wizarding Luna hinting at something?

"I understand," Hermione told her. "But I'd like some privacy."

"You could also just talk to everyone for a week - satisfy their curiosity," wizarding Ginny suggested. "People care more about what they can't have." She grinned. "Harry and I found that out after the war. The press was awful."

"I didn't think you'd have trouble with the press." Hermione frowned again. "Not like we had during… our time at Hogwarts."

"Oh, there's no second Skeeter, but journalists still bothered us a lot - and again after the kids were born. Trying to hide wasn't working well."

"Ah."

"The Quibbler put out a special edition," wizarding Luna added with a smile. "With a poster."

"You could do that for Hermione as well, couldn't you?" wizarding Ginny asked.

Wizarding Luna shook her head. "I think the Daily Prophet would be the better choice in this particular case."

Ron frowned why wouldn't they…? Oh. Of course - Hermione's public story was a lie.

"There you are!"

For a moment, Ron thought it was Harry. His Harry. But no, it was his friend's counterpart. With Ron's counterpart and wizarding Lavender in tow. Great.

They exchanged greetings while wizarding Harry and wizarding Ginny kissed.

"You look great, Hermione," wizarding Lavender said.

"You too," Hermione replied.

Neither witch sounded as if they meant it.

Ron merely nodded at his counterpart.

"Nice beard," wizarding Ron commented with a smirk.

Ron clenched his teeth for a moment. It was a disguise, not a fashion statement. "Thank you."

Then both wizards hugged Hermione, and, as they did so, Ron looked around for possible threats.

"Glad you could make it," wizarding Ron said. "We weren't sure."

"Oh?" Hermione frowned again before the buzzing background noise of a privacy charm filled Ron's ears.

"What with Luna being a suspect in the escape of some stone lice in Berlin."

"Really?" Wizarding Luna looked so surprised, Ron would have been fooled if he didn't know any better.

"Yes. An entire house was lost before they could stop them," Harry said.

"How peculiar. Perhaps the house owner had failed to get his building properly warded?"

"Really?" Wizarding Ron snorted.

Wizarding Luna nodded emphatically. "There's no other explanation. But why would they suspect me?"

Wizarding Harry shook his head. "The affected building sold a unicorn horn the day before - to a group of people who were very interested in the stone lice reserve. British people."

"How peculiar." Wizarding Luna shook her head. "And how does that involve me? There are thousands of British witches. And hundreds with an interest in magical creatures. The Stone Louse Sanctuary is, after all, Berlin's most famous attraction. Even other worlds have heard about it!"

"In a cartoon on TV, apparently," Hermione explained. "Probably a coincidence."

"Oh." Wizarding Ron looked surprised.

His friend, though, merely sighed. "Just be more subtle, please. Kingsley has enough work; he doesn't need international problems, too."

"But he's not responsible for people failing to keep their household spells up to date," wizarding Luna stated. "Especially not in Berlin!" She cocked her head. "Did they evacuate the poor little lice properly? The ICW wouldn't be happy if they killed endangered magical creatures."

Wizarding Ron grinned. "I don't think so. That should shut up the Prussians. Thanks, Luna!"

"For what?"

Ron couldn't tell if the witch was acting or honestly confused.

"Well, as long as there are no stone lice in England…" Lavender said after a moment.

"Not in the wild," Luna said. "That wouldn't be nice for Prussian Stone Lice. They would get all confused."

"Luna…"

Suddenly, everyone looked very concerned. And Ron felt the urgent need to find out what dangerous magical creatures could be found in America. Not that he could ask here - he didn't want his counterpart and Hermione's other wizarding friends to know about their plans.

"What?" wizarding Luna asked. "Do you _want _me to introduce an invasive species to Britain?"

She sounded as if she was honestly confused.

"Of course not," Hermione said.

"Good." Wizarding Luna nodded again. "That would be very irresponsible - they don't have any natural predators in Britain."

"What natural predators do they have?" wizarding Ginny asked.

"Prussian Bowtruckles," wizarding Luna told her. "Although they went extinct when the Prussian Ministry decided to exterminate stone lice, depriving them of their food source. They couldn't adapt to their food hiding in buildings instead of eating rocks."

"What about other predators?"

"Some muggle insects and arachnids eat stone lice as well, but they aren't commonly found in buildings, either."

In other words, if those pests ever got free, they'd have a huge problem on their hands until the wizards could contain them. And yet… "Spiders." Ron shuddered.

"Oh, you don't like them, either, do you?" his counterpart asked.

"Not at all," Ron confirmed.

"Oh. Was that the twins' fault?" wizarding Lavender asked.

Ron nodded. "Though a recent encounter with a giant spider didn't really help, either." He shuddered again.

"You went to the Acromantula lair?" Wizarding Ron gaped. "What for?"

"No, we didn't," Hermione quickly said. "We had to shrink ourselves during a mission in the other world," she said, "and we ran into a spider."

"Merlin's beard!" Ron's counterpart shuddered. "And without a wand?"

"Yes. We managed to kill it, though," Ron told him. "Squashed it with a book."

"With a book?" Wizarding Lavender stared at them.

"I had my library in my enchanted bag, so when I pulled out a book it was normal sized since it hadn't been shrunk," Hermione explained.

"Splat - squashed spider," Ron added.

"But…" Wizarding Harry narrowed his eyes. "For that to work, you must have been almost on top of it."

"It was a little tricky," Ron admitted. "But, obviously, we survived. I took a heavier rifle for the next mission, though."

"Which didn't do anything against the snake," Hermione commented.

"Well, nothing would have helped against that. We were saved by an owl that time," Ron said. "Wild owl," he added before they could ask.

"You're crazy," wizarding Lavender said, shaking her head.

"We've done similar things," wizarding Ron told her. "Remember?"

"_You_ did," she replied, sniffing. "_I_ was a very sensible witch at school."

"Most of the time," he told her.

She winced for a moment, then nodded.

Everyone else seemed to know what they meant. Ron would have to ask Hermione later about that.

"I really wish I could've taken my twin as a date," wizarding Luna said. "We could've disguised her like Ronald. Well, not with a beard; that would have looked a little weird. Although we might've disguised her as a man…"

"Your twin?" Wizarding Ginny asked.

Ron saw Hermione shut her mouth - she probably had been about to lecture them again about disguises and their need to not be too obvious.

"My dimensionally displaced twin sister!" Wizarding Luna beamed. "It's like my family doubled overnight!"

"Ah."

Ron looked at his counterpart and forced a fake smile on his face, which was returned in equal measure. It went without saying that no one shared wizarding Luna's attitude towards their doubles. Well, with the possible exception of Hermione - although having two sets of parents might be a burden for her as well as a blessing.

"So… when's the dancing?" Ron asked to break the sudden silence.

"That's usually after the Minister's speech," wizarding Harry told him.

"Watch out, parents coming," Ron's counterpart cut in, nodding towards the side. "Better drop the privacy charm."

Ron turned. Indeed, Mr and Mrs Weasley were headed towards them, followed by wizarding Percy and... Penny, was it? And behind them came the twins' counterparts and Angelina.

He glanced around and spotted Bill - wizarding Bill - with Fleur.

It really looked like a Weasley party right now. The only one missing was Charlie. Ron blinked. "Say… who's watching all the kids?"

"Hagrid," wizarding Ron told him. "He's used to dealing with dangerous animals, so he'll be fine."

Judging by the expression on Hermione's face, she didn't share his opinion. "Hagrid?"

"Well, Dobby's helping," wizarding Ginny said. "He's got experience. But this isn't the first time Hagrid's babysat, Hermione."

Hermione still didn't look like she believed her friend.

Something else to ask her about later, Ron thought as the privacy charm faded and they were greeted by the other Weasleys. For now, he'd try his best to enjoy the party.

* * *

"...and you really lived as a muggle for seven years? Without remembering your family and friends? I can't imagine how awful that must have been!" the witch - Susan Bones, apparently the niece of Bones's counterpart and a former classmate of Hermione's - exclaimed.

Her date, Terry Boot, yet another former classmate, nodded.

"Well, I didn't actually know what I was missing," Hermione lied. "And I made new friends," she added, gripping Ron's arm a little more tightly.

"Oh, of course," Bones was quick to reply, giving Ron a quick glance. "But to live without magic… you must be very relieved to have recovered."

"Yes."

"I wouldn't have survived, I think," Boot added. "I wouldn't have known the first thing about how muggles live."

"Although living as a muggle isn't too bad," Ron had to comment. "My best friend and my family did it for years." Well, his family in his world.

"Ah, certainly, but…" Bones trailed off. "I mean, you didn't know better, either, did you?"

He couldn't resist. "Oh, I've dreamed of magic since I could read." Well, since he had been able to read Uncle Gideon's fantasy books that had ended up in the attic.

"What?" Boot blurted out, staring at him openly for the first time. "Are you… are you the Weasley squib?"

"What? No. I didn't even know we were family," Ron told him as Bones glared at Boot.

"But you dreamed of magic?"

"I've read a lot of books about magic," Ron said.

"You did?" Bones looked shocked.

"Fictional books written by muggles," Hermione said, her smile a little too wide. Spoilsport.

Ron nodded. "Yes. So I wasn't completely flabbergasted when Hermione revealed the truth to me. Even though most of what I expected was wrong."

"Ah." Bones nodded. "So, Hermione, how was the Weasley Christmas Dinner? It's legendary at the Ministry."

"Oh, it was as you would expect," Hermione replied. "Great food, great company, but very lively."

"All the Weasleys in one place…" Bones chuckled as she shook her head. "Especially the twins. The things they came up with at Hogwarts!"

"I know," Hermione told her. "I was the only prefect trying to rein them in, as I recall."

"Oh, yes. One time, they left their sweets out, and Hannah…" Bones abruptly shut her mouth.

Hermione nodded.

Hannah must have been another witch who hadn't survived the war, Ron concluded, a little belatedly.

Before anyone could say anything else, an older woman approached them. "Miss Granger. Miss Bones. Mr Boot."

"Professor McGonagall!" Hermione's face lit up as the others mumbled their greetings. "Oh, I should have visited Hogwarts already! But I've been so busy…"

"Completely understandable," the older witch - apparently a teacher - said, "given your circumstances."

"Yes." Hermione nodded, then turned to Ron. "Professor, this is Ronald Weasley. Ronald - Professor McGonagall. She is the Headmistress of Hogwarts and used to teach Transfiguration."

"Ah. I'm a muggle Weasley," Ron told McGonagall.

She nodded at him, though with a rather stern expression. "So I've heard." She turned to Hermione. "I was overjoyed to hear that you survived."

"Everyone was," Bones cut in.

"I was wondering about your plans for your education," the professor went on, "and whether you plan to take your N.E.W.T.s. I know you did study during the war, but it's been seven years since."

"I'm planning to take my N.E.W.T.s, but I haven't yet decided when. I'm still adjusting to, well, everything. There's so much to sort out," Hermione replied.

"If you need any assistance, please don't hesitate to contact me, Miss Granger. It would be a shame if such a brilliant mind didn't finish her education."

Ron refrained from frowning. He didn't refrain from butting in. "She went to university," he pointed out.

"Well, I wouldn't have expected anything less." McGonagall beamed at Hermione, who smiled back.

"Thank you, professor."

Ron wondered - not aloud, of course - if the witch had any idea how difficult earning a doctorate was, especially after spending seven years at magic school. He was about to mention that when an older wizard approached.

"Miss Granger!" The man beamed at her. "Minerva. Susan. Mr Boot."

"Professor Slughorn." Hermione's greeting was noticeably less enthusiastic than before. "Ronald - this is Professor Slughorn. Professor - Ronald Weasley."

"The muggle Weasley," Ron said, nodding at the man.

"So I've heard. Remarkable. Truly remarkable." Contrary to his words, the wizard turned right back to Hermione. "I was overjoyed to hear that you survived your ordeal. It's almost a Christmas miracle, isn't it?"

"Is that what the Prophet is calling it?" Hermione laughed, though it sounded a little forced.

"They might," Slughorn replied with a wide smile. "Although it might depend on who is writing a particular article. I would've sent you an invitation to the Slug Club Holiday Dinner, but I assumed that you would prefer to spend the holidays with your close family and friends."

"I did," Hermione said.

"But, as we've been told, this is practically the Weasley New Year's Party," Ron added. "So, almost a family event."

"Indeed, indeed." Slughorn chuckled. "Although since everyone wants to talk to you, you might have preferred a more private occasion for your return to wizarding society."

"So far, I've managed," Hermione replied.

"Good, good. I hope to see you at my next get together."

This was the wizarding old boy's network, Ron realised. Although it didn't seem to be limited to boys.

* * *

"Miss Granger!" Shacklebolt was charming, as behoved a politician, in Ron's opinion. "I hope you've been enjoying the party so far."

"I have, thank you," Hermione replied.

"And you, Mr Weasley?"

"It's very impressive," he told him.

"I'm happy to hear that." Shacklebolt nodded, then turned back to Hermione. "Please don't think I was ignoring you; I assumed you didn't want to be dragged into the spotlight again."

She nodded at him. "You were correct. I'm still not used to drawing such attention."

"The press isn't allowed to bother guests, either," the wizard added. "Though that rule was implemented years ago."

"I can imagine."

So could Ron. Especially if wizarding Harry held similar sentiments towards the tabloids as Ron's friend.

"So, what are your impressions?" Another beaming smile followed - Shacklebolt was probably very popular. "As a recent arrival, you're bound to be more objective than most others."

"It reminds me of Christmas at Hogwarts," Hermione told him.

"Good." The Minister nodded a few times. "I'll pass your compliments on to the organisers."

Ron wasn't sure if Hermione had meant her comment as an unqualified compliment. Who would want to hear that their great event was like a school party? On the other hand, everyone in Wizarding Britain went to Hogwarts for seven years. Except for immigrants and squibs, of course. And the muggle partners of wizards and witches. So they might have much more positive feelings about Hogwarts. And it certainly looked like a very impressive castle from the outside.

But the Minister was already continuing: "And it seems you've weathered the deluge of people wishing to talk to you well. I hope it wasn't overwhelming."

"Not at all," Hermione replied. "Many were old friends from Hogwarts. Or Order members."

Ron didn't recall many of the latter - unless all the Weasleys counted, of course.

"Ah! Good, good. Though I do hope no one's tried to drag you into politics already."

That sounded a little condescending to Ron.

Judging by the hint of teeth showing in Hermione's smile, she shared his impression. "If they were, they were too subtle for me to notice."

"Ah, that could very well be the case. Despite my best efforts, the Wizengamot remains dominated by old and experienced wizards and witches. Most of them are so used to each other that a few hints are enough to make their intentions plain to one another. It can be a little frustrating if you're not used to it." The Minister shrugged.

"I would've expected Voldemort to have gotten rid of most of the Wizengamot, and to have corrupted the rest," Hermione said with a frown.

"He did, and we dealt with the survivors. However, their successors are mostly cut from the same cloth, so to speak - at least with regards to their age. Most of the younger crowd went into the Ministry, like Harry and Ron. Of course, the Ministry had suffered even more under Voldemort."

"So I've heard. However, since we're speaking about old traditions - isn't it time to get rid of Azkaban? Or at least the Dementors? You've had seven years, an entire Hogwarts generation, to recover, so there should no longer be a lack of manpower that would justify such a despicable expedient. It'snothing less than torture for the prisoners - we should be above such practices. Especially after fighting Voldemort." Hermione all but glared at the Minister.

Shacklebolt winced, Ron noticed. "Unfortunately, it's not that easy. While the curse on the Defence teacher's post has been broken by the Dark Lord's death, that didn't help the older students much. It's only now that people are finishing Hogwarts who have had the benefit of a decent Defence teacher for all their years there."

"It seems that now would be the best time to stop employing those monsters, then." Hermione lifted her chin - she was digging her heels in.

"But whoever we hire now wouldn't have any experience - and, as we've discovered, the most talented wizards and witches prefer other positions in the Ministry to serving as prison guards. And we do need the best to guard the worst dark wizards, or we would risk escapes or accomplices breaking the prisoners out." The Minister shook his head. "We cannot allow that to happen. We need to keep the Dementors for at least a few more years."

"I'm sure that raising the salary of those positions would make them more popular." Hermione scoffed. "Well worth the price."

"Or rotate Aurors through?" Ron suggested.

"That would harm Auror recruitment and retention." Shacklebolt shook his head. "And we need every Auror we can recruit since the Corps was effectively wiped out in the war. Would you really sacrifice the protection of our people just to save the worst criminals a certain amount of pain?"

"It's torture! Constant, ongoing torture!" Hermione retorted. "We're supposed to be better than that."

"Should we execute every criminal instead? Even those who don't deserve a life sentence, but are still dangerous?" The Minister shook his head again. "That's not a solution, either. We're still recovering from the war; we just don't have the resources to reform Azkaban. Where would you make the cuts? St Mungo's? The Obliviators? The ICW would condemn us for endangering the Statute of Secrecy."

Hermione pointedly looked around. "This doesn't look like an event organised by a Ministry on the verge of collapse."

"It doesn't cost much to organise a party - much was done by volunteers. But not many of those who can cook a great feast or decorate a room can or would serve as prison guards."

Ron saw Hermione clench her teeth and purse her lips - which meant that the Minister was correct, and she was loath to admit it. "You could increase your revenue."

"That's far easier said than done," Shacklebolt retorted. "Most of our revenue comes from licensing fees for businesses and customs, and both were affected by the war. If we increased the fees, we'd drive people out of business, or underground, and lose even more revenue."

"What about taxes?"

Shacklebolt spread his hands in a gesture that reminded Ron of Dumbledore. "We don't have the personnel or the skill to implement a system that would allow us to collect taxes fairly and accurately. And relying on donations would open the door to corruption and patronage."

Hermione wasn't about to admit defeat. "You could tax properties. Thanks to the Floo Network, most homes are registered at the Ministry."

"The Wizengamot would never go for it."

Hermione scoffed. "Because most of the members own the largest manors?"

Shacklebolt inclined his head. "In the worst case, they would implement a flat tax per property, which would barely dent their fortunes, but might drive others into ruin." He smiled, although ruefully. "I'm afraid that reforming Azkaban won't be possible until Britain has fully recovered from the war."

Hermione made a sound like a suppressed huff. "I refuse to accept that."

"If you can find a way, I'll see that it's implemented at once," the Minister said with a hint of condescension.

"I'll hold you to that," Hermione snapped back.

"Of course. Now, please excuse me - it seems the Prussian ambassador would like to talk to me. About an incident in Berlin, I believe."

As soon as the Minister had left and Hermione had cast a new privacy charm, she huffed loudly. "The arrogance of that man!"

"Well," Ron said, "he did seem to be convinced that reforming Azkaban was impossible." She glared at him for that, but he had weathered worse. "I don't know if he's telling the truth."

"He probably thinks he's telling the truth. But if seven years hasn't been enough for the 'economy' to 'recover', no number of years will be enough. There'll always be something more important than the prisoners, something the country needs more than a humane prison." She scoffed and clenched her teeth again.

"Do you have an idea how to change that?" he asked.

"Not yet. But I refuse to accept that it cannot be done for economic reasons."

He had to chuckle at that, and when she frowned at him, he shook his head. "Oh, you reminded me of Luna when she went to uni."

Her eyes widened, and she started to smile. "You're right! I'll need to talk to Luna - both of them - about this!"

Great.

Another wizard approached them - well, Hermione; Ron was under no illusion that the wizard actually desired to talk to him - before he could ask what she meant.

"Miss Granger!"

"Mr Doge!"

* * *

"Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. HAPPY NEW YEAR!" Ron yelled together with everyone else as the giant clock hit midnight. He turned to kiss Hermione when the first firework went off, and a huge glowing green dog filled the air above them for a second before exploding into sparks.

He blinked. The Atrium wasn't that… "They extended it?"

"Yes," Hermione told him. "Impressive, isn't it?"

Very impressive. To extend the room until you could have an indoor fireworks show…

Dozens of small rockets flew up from… somewhere… and turned into small balls with fluttering wings. Snitches, he remembered. The crowd cheered as brooms made of smoke and light chased after them before a giant starburst wiped it all away, followed by another rocket forming a giant dragon with spread wings. Moving wings.

Ron slowly shook his head as more and more impossible figures and shapes appeared in the artificial sky.

"Fred and George have gone all-out," Hermione said into his ear.

This was the work of the twins? He should've filmed it; the faces his brothers would make if they saw this…

He smiled widely as the fireworks continued, one arm around Hermione's shoulders. Magic was marvellous.

Things started to slow down after midnight, though. There wasn't a massive exodus, but the crowd was steadily growing thinner. Unlike the parties Ron was used to, though, the buffet was still full - of course, if a single spell could refill a bowl or glass, that wasn't a big achievement.

Not that Ron minded - the food was excellent, after all. Neither did he mind that more and more people were leaving - it wasn't as if they were interested in talking to him, was it?

"Hey. Great party, hm?"

With the possible exception of his counterpart, Ron amended his thoughts as wizarding Ron and wizarding Lavender sat down on quickly conjured seats next to Hermione and himself.

"Well, it's pretty much a Weasley party, isn't it?" Hermione told them with a smile. "Molly for the food, the twins for entertainment and I bet Percy organised it."

"Some of the food. The best of the food," wizarding Ron corrected her. "And Dad helped organise it." He seemed proud, though.

"The fireworks were great," Ron told him.

"Oh, yes. Too bad they can't be used in many places," his counterpart said, "or they'd endanger the Statute of Secrecy. I keep telling them to produce fireworks with Muggle-Repelling Charms so they'll get ignored by muggles, but they won't listen."

That would have been a fine mess, Ron thought. Staring at the sky and not seeing anything? He'd have been the laughing stock of the party. "What about indoor variants that automatically extend the ceiling?" he asked.

"Oh, that's a new one. That might work. But it's probably too expensive - Extension Charms of that quality are fiendishly difficult to cast." His counterpart shook his head. "And if something goes wrong… can you imagine the complaints?"

"Fred and George might find it hilarious," wizarding Lavender said with a frown.

"Angelina wouldn't be amused, though," wizarding Ron retorted.

"Speaking of fiends," Hermione spoke up, "I had a lively discussion with the Minister about Dementors. He remains convinced it's not worth the money to get rid of them."

Ron didn't miss how his counterpart winced. "He's the Minister."

"And that means? His word makes it fact?" Hermione scoffed.

"I don't know all the details, but I've seen the rough numbers. We're still recovering." Wizarding Ron looked around. "We joke about this being the Weasleys' New Year's Party, but the fact is that we - my family - have been organising this party since the end of the war. No one else has tried to take over, or ask for a turn or whatever."

"They might be afraid to step on your toes," Hermione pointed out.

Ron's counterpart snorted. "For seven years?" He shook his head. "Things still aren't back to normal."

"Diagon Alley looked fine to me," Hermione said. "As did Hogsmeade."

"The number of shops is the same," the wizard told her, "but a lot of people died in the war. Fewer people means less gold."

Ron was sure that was a direct quote from this world's Percy.

"That Britain held the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament in the year before the war didn't help," wizarding Lavender added.

"Used up a lot of the reserves," Ron's counterpart agreed as he flicked his wand and summoned a slice of cake.

"Ron!"

Ron jerked before he realised wizarding Lavender had been addressing his counterpart.

"Oh, come on! I'll work it off tomorrow - we've got a pratol."

He was tempted to tell his counterpart that the calories didn't work like that, but refrained from doing so - perhaps an Auror patrol was really physically demanding.

"I understand that times might be lean," Hermione said, and her expression told Ron that she didn't think that was the case, "but after my talk with him today, I cannot help fearing that there'll always be something or someone who needs the money more urgently, at least in the opinion of the Ministry, than Azkaban."

"Well, it's hard to drum up support for helping the kind of prisoners that the Dementors guard," wizarding Ron said. "Why would anyone care about dark wizards, other than their families?"

"Most of the families of such prisoners have cut contact with them," wizarding Lavender added. "And, honestly, Hermione, if I have to choose, I'd rather have one more Healer at St Mungo's than one more guard in Azkaban." The witch raised her chin with a defiant expression.

"That's a false equivalency," Hermione protested.

"But it's a real one," wizarding Ron retorted. "I don't like it, but I'd rather have more Aurors than more prison guards if I had to choose."

"But if everyone cares more about a specific thing, Azkaban will never change. What if you send an innocent person there?" Hermione shook her head.

"We've got Veritaserum."

"That's not infallible: Not when you can erase and modify memories," Hermione countered.

"You can spot most altered memories," her friend replied.

She pressed her lips together in obvious frustration. "It's still not right. Torture is inhumane. And what about the prisoners who are driven mad by it?"

"What about the victims of a criminal who escaped from prison?"

"And what about the victims of Dementors who strayed from the prison?"

Before wizarding Ron could reply, his wife spoke up: "I think we should go fetch the kids now. We can't leave them with Dobby and Hagrid for the whole night."

"They've done it before, haven't they?" wizarding Ron asked. After a glare from the witch, he suddenly nodded. "Right. Let's relieve the two of them."

* * *

_The village was eerily silent. No cars were running, no lawnmowers working. The only things that moved were the plants and debris when the wind hit them. She saw no animals, dead or alive - they must have fled long ago. Fled from something invisible, yet deadly._

_They had been smarter than the humans. She saw plenty of humans - dead on the ground. Muggles. They couldn't even see Dementors - and if they could, they had no defence against them. Running or boarding up their houses and waiting for help to arrive were their only options._

_The people in the little Scottish village hadn't managed either. The monsters must have come in the night - most of the cars were still around, meaning the commuters hadn't been up and leaving for work. She passed a house with a body on the front steps and another behind it, in the hallway. The door to the next house was open as well, but she saw no bodies outside. But a large car was parked in front of the house - with a child seat on the back seat._

_She closed her eyes for a moment and struggled not to cry._

_But Dementors couldn't break through doors, certainly not sturdy ones like the old houses here had, she reminded herself. And there was no chance that everyone had opened their doors, or left them open, at the same time._

_No. Someone had been here with the monsters, opening doors with magic. And offering people to the Dementors. She sniffled, then shook her head._

_If she ever found out who had done this, she'd feed them to the Dementors._

_Shuddering, she flicked her wand and apparated back to her friends. She hoped they would have better news._


	47. Chapter 47: The Healer

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 47: The Healer**

**Somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean, January 3rd, 2006**

For a group of people being smuggled into the USA, this was a very comfortable trip, Ron had to admit. He, Harry, Ginny, Sirius, Luna and Dumbledore didn't want for anything - the wizarding tent they were inside was spacious. Five bedrooms - wizarding Luna had called it 'the Weasley model', but she might have been joking - and a large living room, even an office on the side and a huge kitchen with a full larder.

On the other hand, knowing that they were in a magical tent, inside a magical trunk, in the cargo hold of an aeroplane, put a damper on it all. They couldn't leave the trunk - well, not without breaking it and dealing with the deadly lack of oxygen outside - they couldn't see out of the trunk and they had no idea what was happening. In theory, they might have been loaded on to the wrong plane and be on the way to Siberia. And the thought of the plane crashing sent shivers down Ron's spine - inside the trunk and tent, they wouldn't notice anything until they hit the ground.

"I have to say, this is by far the most comfortable trip to the United States I've taken in the last few decades," Dumbledore commented as if he had read Ron's thoughts.

"Not the most comfortable trip ever?" Ginny asked.

"That would've been my first trip, on a liner."

"Oh, you mean a ship," Luna said. "Of course, that would have been even more comfortable. Well, if you were travelling first class."

"I was, actually - I had decided to 'upgrade' the accommodations Her Majesty's Government had seen fit to assign me." The old man smiled.

"Oh, a business trip?" Luna sounded eager to know more. "To the USA?"

"Nothing exciting - just a few meetings. There were some disagreements between the United Kingdom and the USA at the time, but I managed to settle most of them."

That would've been the Suez Crisis, Ron thought. Probably - given Dumbledore's past, it could've been anything and might still be classified.

Luna sighed and leaned back in her seat. "You're not going to tell tales."

Dumbledore merely inclined his head.

"Phooey."

"Well, it's certainly the most comfortable trip for me. When I took a ship to America, I wasn't travelling in quite the same style."

"That was in 1982, and you were on a troop transport," Harry pointed out. "To the Falklands, not the USA."

"It's still the same continent," Sirius retorted. "Although I had a tank with me, something we're lacking here."

"We're not going to war," Ron told him.

"Close enough. Hermione told us that the Free Republic of Maine and Vermont has just fought a war against Magical Québec," Sirius replied. "A tank could come in handy. Especially if we're travelling in the USA, where everyone's armed."

"That assumption is actually quite far from the truth," Dumbledore said. "The vast majority of Americans do not walk around armed."

Sirius, of course, was sticking to his guns. Or tank, in this case. "Better safe than sorry, I say. And they drive on the wrong side of the road as well - another reason to use a tank."

He wasn't serious. At least not really serious. But Ron was a little sick of the 'argument'. Even if it did take his mind off of aeroplane crashes. He checked his watch. A few more hours until John F. Kennedy Airport. Then the connecting flight to Portland. And Hermione and Luna - the only ones with legal passports in their group - would have to find a hotel room before they could let them out. All in all, probably ten to twelve more hours.

Perhaps he should've taken the risk and used his own passport. It was genuine, if not of this world. And comparing it with Hermione's hadn't shown any differences. But wizarding Ron wouldn't have applied for a passport, and ever since 9/11, the Americans had become quite strict about checking IDs. He didn't fancy being mistaken for a terrorist. Or having Hermione and wizarding Luna mind wipe - obliviate, he reminded himself - American customs officers or whatever agency was handling ID checks this year.

"Well, maybe you're right. A tank might be overkill for Magical Maine. Losing a war against the French? Even worse, the American French?" Sirius scoffed. "That's embarrassing!"

If Hermione were here, she'd certainly correct the other man. Ron didn't feel like arguing any more. He faked a yawn and went inside his room to take a nap.

There was no need to arrive tired, after all.

* * *

**Portland, Maine, United States of America, January 4th, 2006**

"Ron?"

That was Hermione! Ron was up and out of the tent in a second. There she was, looking down into the extended trunk. He waved. "Hey!"

"Hey."

Wizarding Luna's head appeared next to Hermione's. "Hi, there!"

"Everything's OK?" he asked as he climbed up the steep stairs in the trunk.

"Ah, yes." Hermione nodded. "We're in Portland, in a hotel, just as planned. It took a little longer than we thought, though - traffic was bad." She grimaced for a moment. "And I think that the cab driver took the scenic route."

"I didn't mind - I've never been to Portland," wizarding Luna remarked.

They were in a modest hotel room - just big enough for two young women travelling the States on a budget. The shades had been pulled down, so no one could spot them through the windows. That wouldn't stop bugs, of course, but chances that someone had bugged a room in a randomly chosen hotel were slim.

They'd still check for bugs, of course. You could never be sure.

"We're on the first floor," wizarding Luna told him. "Facing the street."

"Good!" Harry was climbing out of the trunk, followed by Ginny. "Well, it doesn't look like we'll be spending a lot of time here," he commented.

Ginny snorted. "Any smaller, and it would fit into a trunk. Without magic."

Well, Ron's little sister was more than a little spoilt by her experiences as a pro tennis player on tour. He was about to comment on that, but Hermione wrapped her arm around him.

Luna joined them hopping on the bed - there wasn't much room left for anyone to stand around. "Oh… not as springy as I hoped."

"I could change that," wizarding Luna told her, raising her wand.

"No, Luna," Hermione said.

"Phooey."

"Ginny's right, though," Luna said. "It's a really small room. They're ripping you off if you're paying for two."

"See," Sirius said as he reached the top of the stairs, "That's why we should have gone with my suggestion and rented a suite in a luxury hotel. You should never skimp on lodgings if you can afford it!"

"We've got a luxury suite in the tent," Hermione pointed out. "This is just a cover."

"It's the principle of the thing," Sirius retorted. "Spend enough time in a cold, wet small tent on a godforsaken piece of penguin-infested rock in the Southern Atlantic, and you'd agree with me, I'm certain."

"Dr Granger is correct that two young women of no apparent wealth renting a luxury suite would draw attention we could do without." Dumbledore joined them but didn't leave the stairs. "Although I do suggest holding our meeting in the tent. My knees are much better than they were, but I don't fancy spending a meeting sitting cross-legged on a bed."

Ron snorted at the mental picture but nodded. It was a small room, after all, and he could cuddle with Hermione later. And in their room in the tent.

They didn't have much to discuss anyway. Although sorting out who was staying in the muggle part of Portland and who would enter Magical Portland with Hermione and wizarding Luna might take some time.

* * *

**Magical Quarter, Portland, Free Republic of Maine and Vermont, January 5th, 2006**

Portland's Magical Quarter didn't look like Ron had expected. He had expected something like Diagon Alley or the Alte Strasse - quaint, medieval-looking buildings lining narrow alleys filled with wizards and witches.

There were old buildings, true. But many of them didn't seem to have anyone living in them. It looked like more windows and doors were boarded up than not - and that wasn't counting the numerous ruins. And the residents… there was no crowd, just a few groups, and more individuals, on the streets, and all of them looked harried. As if they expected an attack at any moment. Or were looking for an opportunity to attack...

"This does look a lot like Berlin just after the war," Dumbledore commented.

"When was the war with Québec again?" Ron asked.

"It ended six years ago," Hermione replied. She looked surprised as well. "I didn't think it would still be this bad."

"Diagon Alley was in much better shape," Luna commented. "Two more years shouldn't make such a difference. Not after all this time."

Ron wondered when Luna had visited Diagon Alley - probably with the wizarding Lovegoods between Christmas and the New Year's. But she was correct. Why was the capital of Magical Maine in such a state? "Didn't they win the war?"

"Technically, yes," wizarding Luna said. "But they lost a lot of people in the fighting, and they didn't have too many to begin with, not after conscription."

Ron refrained from whistling. That must have been a very bloody war.

"Still, our war was bloody as well…" Hermione said.

"Well, we didn't lose as many people, proportionally, but Kingsley and the others also worked very hard to rebuild Britain," wizarding Luna told her.

"Ah." Hermione looked a little more pensive than Ron would have expected.

"Well, if the situation in the Republic is as bad as it seems, monetary incentives should be very effective in acquiring a Healer's services," Dumbledore said.

"Given how mobile wizards and witches are," Luna countered, "and how sought-after Healers apparently are, any Healers remaining might not be motivated by money at all."

Dumbledore tilted his head a little. "In my experience, everyone is motivated by money - if only for the goods and services you can buy with it. For yourself or for others. Rare is the person who both desires nothing and does not care about others less fortunate than themselves. And I dare say that anyone who stays here to help others wouldn't turn down a generous reward for a small service."

"Some of the wizards and witches cannot easily move to another country," wizarding Luna pointed out. "They might be wanted wizards and too well known to disappear in a crowd." With a frown, she added: "Although we're currently proving that disguises work, so, perhaps, they could've disappeared if they wanted to."

"You mean war criminals?" Hermione asked.

"Or present or former members of the government," wizarding Luna replied.

"Not that one would preclude the other - quite the contrary," Luna added.

Dumbledore seemed to be amused. "In that case, we might want to contact the local leaders, If our own recruitment efforts are not successful."

Ron had no doubt that the old man knew exactly how to handle corrupt warmongering 'leaders'. And make deals with them or their underlings. Pinochet was just the most infamous example of the kind of people the United Kingdom had dealt with during Dumbledore's career in MI6.

Hermione frowned, though. "The people ruling over this country don't seem to be the sort of people with whom we might want to make a deal."

"That depends on the deal," Dumbledore pointed out. "In my experience, it's as easy to enable a dictator as it is to rein one in." His smile widened a little.

"But they will be looking to betray you in turn," Hermione said. "And once they realise that there's an entire world full of muggles without magic to defend it…"

"An irresistible lure for certain people, indeed, I think," the old man said. "The sort of people not many would miss. Obliviating them shouldn't pose a moral challenge, either."

Once more, Ron told himself that he should have seen this coming. Acceptable targets for Obliviation - or even murder. And a war-torn country where even those who'd care about a criminal's disappearance wouldn't have the resources to investigate.

"Ah." Luna smiled widely. "So you might not only help yourself but the people of Maine and Vermont as well."

"In a small but perhaps significant way, depending on who we might find," the old man confirmed.

"First, we need to find a Healer," Hermione interjected. "Preferably without drawing attention or further wrecking the area." She was eyeing the two Lunas as she spoke, so Ron looked at Sirius.

The other man frowned at him. "I'm the soul of discretion. If I choose to be. Which I do, right now, of course."

Ron snorted, but let matters lie. Compared to Luna and wizarding Luna, Sirius had behaved in an exemplary manner.

"Let's look for Healer's office," Hermione said, turning to face the street.

"What about a clinic?" Luna asked.

"A clinic will be too well-guarded," Hermione said. "We'd be asked all sorts of questions."

And that would threaten their cover.

They started walking down the street. Ron couldn't help feeling as if he were part of a patrol in a war movie, with all the ruins around and the passers-by giving them a wide berth.

"Couldn't they have repaired the destroyed buildings with magic?" Sirius asked, staring at a particularly flattened building. As with other such patches, no plants seemed to grow on the ruins.

"They could, and probably did," Hermione replied. "But it's hard work - the Mending Charm only repairs so much per casting. If you're an average wizard, at least. But I would've expected the government to pass out abandoned lots to people interested in rebuilding. This is the capital of the Free Republic, after all. There should be a demand for shops or homes located here."

That made sense. Although…

"There should. But I expect that those who own the land but have no intention to invest and rebuild bribed the government to keep their assets," Luna said. "Perhaps they hope that prices will rise once others have rebuilt the Alley and the economy picks up."

"Or they are afraid that there'll be another war, and don't trust the government to protect them," wizarding Luna added. "They did lose a lot of people."

"And it doesn't take many wizards and witches to start a guerrilla war - or a reign of terror," Hermione pointed out.

And wasn't that a chilling thought?

* * *

"Well, there are no Healers advertising their services," wizarding Luna summed up after they had walked up and down the street. "There's also no ice cream parlour, no Quidditch Supplies and no independent newspaper. Obviously, the government of the Republic is unable to provide its people with the bare essentials."

"And there are no Healers advertising in the 'Maine Monitor'," Luna added, holding up the newspaper they had purchased on the way. "There's not much advertising at all, actually - only government propaganda."

"Without a second, trusted source, we cannot determine to what extent the newspaper is misrepresenting the facts," Dumbledore pointed out.

"I know lies and government propaganda when I see them," Luna retorted with a frown.

Ron refrained from commenting - he knew that Luna thought that all governments lied all the time. Although she might be correct with regards to the Free Republic of Maine and Vermont. The pictures and articles in the newspaper, at least the ones he had skimmed, didn't match up with the state of the country's capital. Wizards might be different from muggles, but not so different as to let the centre of their economy lie in ruins when things were going well.

"Well, you can't open a newspaper or turn on the tv without finding either," Sirius agreed.

"Discussing the local government's failures doesn't help us find a Healer," Hermione said. "We'll have to ask a resident."

"And hope they won't report us when we don't want to head to the state clinic," Luna added. "There are always informants and snitches around, especially in areas like these."

"Indeed. It's almost like operating behind the old Iron Curtain," Dumbledore said. "Although I hope that the local authorities aren't quite as efficient as the old KGB or the Stasi. Evading their agents was always a very risky business."

Ron nodded. He didn't fancy facing wizarding agents - the sheer range of options magic granted them…

Hermione frowned. "We have to assume that they'll be on the lookout for spies."

Ron nodded. The political situation on the East Coast was supposed to be highly volatile, with most wizarding enclaves at odds with their neighbours and smaller wars flaring up every few years - at least. Well, they had expected that they would have to resort to slightly shady means. "Well, let's hope that if we meet a spy, they're susceptible to bribes."

Sirius snorted. "Looking at the state of the country, I'd be surprised if they weren't."

"I agree. But there's always a true believer, even in the worst circumstances," Dumbledore said. "We'll have to take our chances."

And be prepared to fight their way out, if the worst came to the worst.

* * *

The capital of Magical Maine might not have an ice cream parlour, but it certainly had plenty of dives. Dives that made the Leaky Cauldron look sophisticated. The one they had entered - 'Lobster's Paradise' according to a faded sign sporting a lobster with a broken-off claw above the entrance - was one of the better-looking ones. Which meant it would have fit perfectly into a pirate movie. Right down to the patrons eyeing their group as if they were wondering if they could take them. These people didn't look harried at all.

"We might be slightly overdressed," Sirius commented as they walked to a free table. "I knew I should've picked my set of rags today."

Ron chuckled at the joke, but Hermione replied: "Muggle clothes are perfectly fine. The Republic was founded by muggleborns and is proud of their heritage."

Well, they might not have much else to be proud of, Ron thought, given the state of the enclave.

"Unless they think that we're pureblood spies in disguise," Dumbledore pointed out.

That would be bad. Ron was glad they had a privacy charm running.

The table was a little too exposed for his liking, but at least they had a wall to one side. Hermione, wizarding Luna and Dumbledore sat down on that side. Their two witches, and the oldest of their group. Ron didn't like sitting down with his back to the tavern, but better him than the others. And he could keep an eye on the corner table to the side - he really didn't like the way the three men there were looking at them. Thugs, for sure. Robbers, probably. Or worse.

The waiter approached them with a limp. He had a peg leg, Ron realised as the man reached them, and the hand holding the wand he used to clean the table was covered in scars. "What'll it be?" Judging by the gravelly voice, the man's throat had been damaged as well.

"Ah, we'd like a…" Dumbledore started coughing. Quite loudly and for several seconds. Had he caught a magical malady? Or a curse? If they had to find a Healer… Ron blinked. Oh, of course. "Sorry," Dumbledore went on, clearing his throat. "An old ailment I never got treated correctly." Another cough, then Dumbledore ordered a fire whisky.

Quite an oblique approach.

They quickly ordered - the tavern didn't have much of a selection - and the waiter headed to the kitchen. "Can we trust the food here?" Sirius asked.

"You never asked that in London," Ron told him, "no matter where we ate." And some of those locations had been very dubious.

"If you've survived Army rations, you can eat anything," the older man replied. "But I'm not sure whether or not that covers magical food."

"Usually, muggles are immune to magical maladies," Hermione explained. "Though if the kitchen's as clean as the rest of the tavern, they might not pass an inspection."

"It would give us another reason to look for a Healer," Luna pointed out.

"That is true, although I would prefer not to become sick for real," Dumbledore interjected. "Is there a spell to disinfect food?"

Hermione winced. "I only know a spell that turns the food into stale but safe mush. Edible, but…"

"I see. And, leaving the desire to eat tasty food aside, the good owners of this tavern might take offence to such a blatant display of our trust, or lack thereof, in them." The old man smiled.

"I don't think the food will be bad," wizarding Luna said. "But I know a spell to test that without harming the target. It's very useful on an expedition."

"Oh. Could you demonstrate it?" Hermione leaned forward with an eager expression.

"Of course. It's all in the…"

Ron cleared his throat. "Perhaps later?" He didn't want to annoy the locals more than they had already done.

Hermione actually flushed a little. "Right."

Ron looked round. The other patrons weren't openly staring at them any more, but he didn't miss that they were still keeping an eye - or more - on their table. "I don't think they get many visitors here," he said in a low voice.

"It doesn't look like it," Hermione agreed. "And most of the visitors will probably be mercenaries - or spies."

"Or bounty hunters," wizarding Luna added.

"Bounty hunters?"

"Hunting war criminals," Ron said. "Harry's counterpart mentioned them, remember?"

"Ah, right." Sirius nodded, though Ron couldn't tell if the man actually did remember.

"Then let's hope that the resident independent Healers aren't wanted men," Dumbledore commented, "or they might misinterpret our interest in them."

Ron nodded in agreement. That would be a dangerous and potentially costly misunderstanding. He didn't want to fight a group of wizards if he could avoid it.

"Well, we could claim we are bounty hunters after someone else," wizarding Luna said with a smile. "Someone who isn't in the country. The resident wizards and witches won't feel threatened then."

"Unless they think we're likely to go after targets of opportunities," Luna retorted. "Or would that be 'marks of opportunity'?" She cocked her head and looked at Ron.

He shrugged. "I'm not familiar with wizarding bounties," he replied. Now, Star Wars, on the other hand...

Hermione hadn't spoken up, so she didn't know either, but wizarding Luna nodded. "I think that would be correct."

"Bounty hunter nomenclature is fascinating, I'm sure," Sirius commented, "but it's still a risk, even if we know of a 'safe' mark. Actually, do we?"

"Well, there are a few of Grindelwald's more well-known Storm Wizards still at large," Hermione said, "but I can't immediately recall their names."

"What about Death Eaters?" Ron asked.

"All the famous ones are accounted for," she replied.

"Oh, yes," wizarding Luna agreed. "Harry and the others were very thorough."

"Claiming that we're hunting a Death Eater might also lead the locals to assume that we have close ties to the British Ministry," Dumbledore said. "That might not be advisable if we want this to be kept a secret."

In Ron's opinion, their counterparts must already suspect what they were doing, but the old man was correct.

The waiter returned to the table with a floating tray that looked very impressive, at least to Ron. The food, though, looked as if Hermione had cast her sterilising spell or whatever name it had already on it: mushy potatoes and what looked like ground meat that had been ground too much. He dug a fork into it and noticed that the consistency of meat and side dish was the same.

"It's safe to eat," wizarding Luna announced. "At least from a medical point of view."

Ron lifted his fork with a mouthful, blowing on it so he wouldn't burn his tongue, and tried it. It didn't taste as bad as he had feared - but that was a low bar to clear. Even Hermione's MREs tasted better, in his opinion. And to think that Harry and Ginny were dining in one of Portland's best restaurants...

At least the beer, contrary to everything he had heard about American brands, was decent.

Dumbledore faked a few more coughing bouts during the meal, and once again when he generously tipped the waiter.

"You should get that looked at," the wizard told him.

"Yes, he should," wizarding Luna cut in before Dumbledore could reply. "He'll scare away the wildlife if he doesn't get it treated. Although I think we could probably cast a Silencing Charm on him."

"You're hunters?" the waiter asked.

"They're hunters," wizarding Luna told him. "I'm just here for a good story for my book."

"Oh?"

Ron forced himself not to wince. It seemed Luna's counterpart had decided to adjust their backstory without telling them.

"Yes! I've got the title already: 'Bagging a Big Foot'!" She beamed at the wizard.

"Provided we manage to catch one," Dumbledore added, smoothly going along with her story.

"If you fail, it'll be 'Bagged by the Big Foot," she replied with a toothy smile.

The waiter laughed. "Gutsy, aint'cha? Not many dare hunt Big Foots."

"We don't lack bravery," Dumbledore replied. "Nor stubbornness. And I am quite sure we can handle a Big Foot." Then he coughed again.

"But we lack a Healer," Hermione said with a frown. "We should've hired one, but…" She shrugged.

"Ah." The waiter nodded slowly.

"It's just a cough; it'll pass," Dumbledore replied.

"You said that a week ago," Ron joined in.

Instead of answering, Dumbledore coughed again.

"You really should get that looked at," the waiter said. He wasn't quite taking a step back, but he was eyeing the rest of them with sudden apprehension.

"It's not contagious," Sirius said. "Just annoying."

Another snort.

"That's why I wanted to hire a Healer," Hermione repeated herself.

The waiter cleared his throat. Ron saw that he was fingering his purse. "Well, if you're looking for a Healer, you could ask Old Abe."

"Old Abe?" Dumbledore cocked his head.

"Abraham Rosengarten. He's a local. He won't join you on a hunt, of course - certainly not a Big Foot hunt - but he can treat your cough." The waiter grinned.

Dumbledore flashed another Galleon between his fingers. "And where might we find him?"

"Two alleys down, then left. Green door with a snake on it."

Dumbledore flipped the coin towards the wizard, who snatched out of the air and stashed it in his purse. "Thank you kindly."

"You have our thanks," Dumbledore replied.

"You might have saved our hunt," Hermione added.

"Well…" wizarding Luna tilted her head slightly. "He would've made good bait, at least."

The waiter chuckled at that, nodded at them, and left their table for the bar, where an apparent regular was clamouring for service.

Well, they had a name and a location. Time to go and see if it was the real deal.

* * *

"Luna!" Hermione hissed as soon as they had left the tavern and cast another privacy charm, "What were you thinking?"

Wizarding Luna looked surprised. "Thinking?"

"About making up a cover story without telling us."

"Oh." The witch blinked. "When I realised that it was the perfect cover for us, it was too late to tell you - I was just quick enough to beat Mr Dumbledore's response." She nodded with a smile at the old man.

"It was a good idea, I think," Dumbledore told her with a smile of his own. "The attention of the others shifted noticeably after our talk. They showed less suspicion than before. Although some of them seemed a little nervous."

Ron frowned - he hadn't noticed that. He had been focused on wizarding Luna, Dumbledore and the waiter. Sloppy.

"Of course. Hunting Big Foots is very dangerous," wizarding Luna said. "Not many would risk it since the shamans are protecting them. And there's the risk of mistaking a Wendigo for a Big Foot, which is usually fatal. And there's the Big Foot's death curse, though its existence hasn't yet been proven to be more than a rumour."

"Oh?" Sirius asked.

"Yes. It's usually hard to determine if someone was killed by the curse, or by the bounty hunters the shamans tend to send after those hunters who manage to escape their lands," wizarding Luna explained. "Would they have been able to avoid death at the hands of a bounty hunter if they hadn't been cursed? Or is it just coincidence?"

"There's no such thing as coincidence," Luna cut in.

"So, they think we're foolhardy hunters," Hermione summed up.

The other witch nodded. "Yes. People brave enough to risk a battle with shamans and bounty hunters - and people ruthless enough to kill Big Foots." She smiled. "They shouldn't bother us."

Hermione sighed. "You make it sound as if they think we're unicorn poachers."

Wizarding Luna beamed at her. "That's actually pretty close. Big Foots were once revered as manifestations of the forest spirits, you know? At least by some tribes, though I'm actually not sure if they survived the seventeenth century. The tribes, not the Big Foots."

"It's a very good thing we're disguised," Hermione said with a sigh. "First a unicorn horn, now hunting Big Foots. If Harry and Ron hear about this…"

Ron nodded in agreement. That wouldn't help their reputation - nor Hermione's friendship.

"Should we expect interference from these 'shamans'?" Dumbledore asked. "If, that is, they hear about our stated plans."

"That might be possible," wizarding Luna told him, "though I doubt that any spy for the Tribal Nations will risk their cover by striking at us here. Not when they could simply warn their homelands instead so we can be ambushed at the borders."

"How comforting," Hermione said with a frown - she obviously hadn't gotten over wizarding Luna's improvisation.

"It's better than being mistaken for spies ourselves," Luna retorted, frowning at Hermione. "It's easier to deal with a spy who cannot afford to be discovered than with the local authorities."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "We could've picked another creature to hunt," she said.

"I picked the most dangerous, to show that we aren't to be trifled with," wizarding Luna explained.

"Or they think we're suicidal fools," Hermione countered.

"No one wants to fight suicidal fools," Sirius cut in. "Trust me - my old regiment learned that the hard way in Iraq."

Ron cleared his throat. "Shall we check on Old Abe?"

"I think that would be the best course of action," Dumbledore agreed. "It's why we came here, after all."

A decision Ron was starting to have second thoughts about. Maine was certainly very far from Britain - and isolated enough diplomatically that they wouldn't have to fear being recognised and causing an international incident, or trouble with the British Ministry - but the country hadn't recovered very much from the last war, or so it seemed. This area certainly hadn't. And the side alley they entered was deserted - though Ron was sure that they were being watched from the shuttered windows.

"Oh, that Belfast feeling..." Sirius muttered.

"You were never in Belfast on patrol," Ron told him.

"Well, friends of mine were. And now I know how they felt."

Ron snorted at that, though privately, he agreed with the older man's statement - he felt far tenser than in Knockturn Alley. Well, not counting the moment he had spotted the ambush.

They reached a green door with a snake. "How very Slytherin," Hermione commented.

"Do you think he's a former Slytherin?" wizarding Luna asked.

"He might be a British expatriate," Hermione replied. "Although Rosengarten isn't a pureblood name, he could've been a half-blood in Slytherin. Although snakes and green are both traditional symbols for Healing."

Ron hoped that it was the latter - what he had heard of the Slytherins hadn't impressed him.

Hermione knocked on the door, then took a step back as the snake painted on it slithered off.

"Oh! A painting as a doorman!" wizarding Luna exclaimed. "Like Hogwarts, in a way."

But the door didn't magically open. They were left standing in the alley, waiting, and Ron felt as if someone was aiming at him. What if this was a trap? The waiter sent unsuspecting marks to a so-called Healer, only for them to disappear…

He looked around, checking the shuttered windows. Good firing positions, though he didn't know if the gaps were wide enough for spells to pass through. He'd have to assume that they were, then - as Moody had taught him. Great.

But after another minute, the snake returned and the door swung open, revealing a wooden staircase - narrow and steep. Another natural choke point and location for an ambush. Hermione, undaunted, took point at once, and Ron hastened to follow her. He hoped the Lunas would bring up the rear.

Upstairs, another door swung open, revealing a large room with fine, but old, wooden furniture - a massive desk, covered with parchment, large, old-fashioned armchairs and a single couch. And a man who looked even older than Dumbledore. Bald, thick, round glasses and thicker white eyebrows, and a pale green robe with that old Healer symbol, the snake around the staff, on his chest.

"Mr Rosengarten, I presume?" Hermione said.

The old man nodded. "Yes, you're correct. And whom have I the pleasure of addressing?"

He didn't have a British accent, but that wouldn't mean anything at his apparent age. Though the large building with about two dozen children in front of it on that picture on the wall didn't look like Hogwarts.

"You can call me Smith. Percival Smith," Dumbledore replied with a smile.

"You're my patient?"

"If you agree to my offer, I'll be one of two patients," Dumbledore replied. "The other isn't here - some travelling is required."

"A fake name, and a trip?" Rosengarten shook his head. "That doesn't sound like a good offer. It actually sounds like a very dangerous offer. The kind of offer only a fool would accept."

"Oh, an Obliviation of the trip's specifics would also be mandatory," Dumbledore cheerfully added.

"If that's a joke, it's in bad taste," Rosengarten replied with a deep frown.

"We would pay in advance, of course, allowing you to make arrangements to ensure we cannot cheat you," Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't even noticed the man's mood. "And we're offering a very generous sum for a rather standard treatment. Nothing illegal, I can assure you. What do you say?"

Technically, the old man was correct. Technically.

"I don't have a need for more gold."

"We're talking enough gold to revitalise part of the street," Dumbledore told him.

Rosengarten glared at him. "Your offer is sounding even worse. If something's too good to be true, it's too good to be true."

"You can check the payment in advance," Dumbledore repeated himself, then nodded at Hermione, who pulled a small purse out of her beaded (and slightly disguised) bag. She stood and offered it to Rosengarten, though he merely nodded at his desk, so she dropped the purse on it.

The Healer hesitated a moment, then ran his wand over the bag. Ron tensed. If the man decided to curse them, Ron wouldn't be quick enough to stop him.

But whatever spells Rosengarten cast, they were aimed at the purse. After a few minutes, he nodded, then levitated the purse about a foot above the desk and upended it.

A few burgeoning bags fell out. A flick of Rosengarten's wand later, the desk was covered with galleons, and the old man drew a hissing breath. "This is… generous."

Dumbledore inclined his head, smiling widely. "And it's all yours if you help us."

"Who are you?" Rosengarten shot back. "With that much money, you could hire any Healer in Europe."

"We prefer more discretion," Dumbledore said. "As to my identity, well… I was born a Dumbledore."

Rosengarten wasn't the only one to gasp at this revelation.

* * *

_She hadn't known that the Headmaster had a brother. She should have, she realised. She should have known a lot more about the Order. Investigated the members. Just in case the Headmaster was unable to contact them for her and her friends._

_Like now. She pressed her lips together, looking at the obelisk that served as a tombstone for Dumbledore. And at the old man standing in front of it. Aberforth Dumbledore. The owner of the Hog's Head Inn. She had been inside that inn multiple times and never bothered to find out who the barman was. What if he had been a Death Eater spy? "I'm so stupid," she muttered._

"_If you're stupid, what does that make us?" Ron replied in a low voice._

"_Brain-dead?" Harry chuckled at his feeble joke._

"_We should have known about this," she said. "About him. It wasn't a secret - everyone would've known. But I never asked anyone. Stupid." And arrogant._

"_Well, now we know. That we need to be on our guard a little more, I mean," Ron pointed out. "It should serve as a good lesson."_

_It certainly would for her, Hermione knew. She wouldn't make the same mistake again._

"_I guess Moody wasn't wrong about constant vigilance," Harry said._

_The old wizard turned to look at them. "Auror Moody's a disgruntled idiot," he snapped, and she wondered how he had overheard them. They needed to cast privacy charms on every occasion._

"_Hey!" Ron said. "He's one of the best Aurors."_

_Aberforth Dumbledore's scoff made it abundantly clear what he thought of that achievement, but the old wizard didn't say anything._

"_So, uh…" Harry trailed off. "Did Dumbledore - your brother - leave you any instructions concerning us?"_

_Another scoff. Then a disturbing smile appeared on the old man's face. "Indeed, something like that." After a moment, he went on: "Did Moody train you?"_

"_He did, but he didn't manage to finish our lessons," Harry said. "We learned a lot, though."_

_More scoffing. "Moody's an Auror. We're not trying to arrest the Death Eaters, are we? I'm going to teach you how to fight a war."_

_Hermione had the distinct feeling that her plans for the next few months had just been altered._


	48. Chapter 48: The Ruined Country

Once more, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 48: The Ruined Country**

**Magical Quarter, Portland, Free Republic of Maine and Vermont, January 5th, 2006**

"You're a Dumbledore?" Rosengarten asked, narrowing his eyes.

Dumbledore inclined his head.

"His brother supposedly died in the war," the Healer went on.

Privately, Ron wondered if that had been news in the rest of the world. If it hadn't been, it would be another sign that Rosengarten might be a British expat.

"I'm not his brother. I'm not closely related to the famous Dumbledore, but I am a Dumbledore. I don't want publicity - but I need a skilled, discreet Healer to treat my and my partner's ailments." Dumbledore smiled. "As I said, perfectly legal."

Rosengarten scoffed. "So legal that you want to obliviate me afterwards."

"That's to protect others."

For a moment, both old men looked at each other in silence. Dumbledore, smiling politely. Rosengarten, frowning deeply.

"And if I refuse?" the Healer finally asked.

"Then that's it, and we go looking for another Healer. If we wanted to force you to help us, we wouldn't have asked in the first place," Dumbledore told him.

And because, Ron thought, only Hermione and wizarding Luna would be able to magically compel the Healer. Able, but unwilling, to do so.

Rosengarten glanced at the money again. "For that amount of money, you could have the country's hospital reserved for your private use. Probably any country's hospital."

"I could," Dumbledore said. "But it would draw attention I would rather avoid and endanger people dear to me."

Rosengarten pressed his lips together and stared at the former spymaster for a few more seconds. "I want double the money. Half in advance."

"Done." Dumbledore beamed at the Healer, who was obviously surprised - perhaps even shocked - at the quick agreement. "It doesn't pay, if you'll excuse my pun, to haggle with Healers if you have the means," the old man added. "How soon can you leave for, say, a week?"

"To Britain, I suppose?" Was the old wizard tensing up?

"Yes. We'll handle transport," Dumbledore said. "We'll avoid customs, though."

"Good. I need three days." After a moment, the Healer added: "You don't seem concerned about me cutting and running with the money."

"Why would I?" Dumbledore asked in return. "The mere fact that you're working here means you care for this town more than you care for money. If you ran, you wouldn't be able to help the town - or the people." With a toothy grin, he added: "And doing so would put them at risk, since the bounty hunters I would send after you would likely begin their search here."

"I see." Rosengarten scoffed and shook his head, and Ron had the impression that the Healer was, despite his attempt to downplay it, quite affected by the threat.

"We'll be in contact in three days, then," Dumbledore said. "If anyone asks, you would do well to say you already cured my cough, else certain elements in town might get too curious for their own good - and yours."

Hermione cleared her throat. "You should also make it clear that you didn't go with us - we've been using the story that we're about to go hunting Big Foots as a cover."

Rosengarten winced. "That's bound to ruffle some feathers. And if I disappear for a week, some might assume I did join you. Especially if I return with a fortune."

"The hint that your past caught up with you and you had to deal with it in Britain should suffice," Dumbledore said.

Rosengarten flinched. "How did you…?"

"It was obvious that you're from Britain, originally, and that you kept your past a secret." Dumbledore pointed at the picture on the wall. "I recognised the boarding school."

"But that's…" Rosengarten pressed his lips together.

"It was destroyed in the Second World War, was it not? A stray bombing attack."

"Yes," the Healer replied. "You're surprisingly well informed about a muggle school in England."

"Indeed." Dumbledore smiled widely.

Rosengarten nodded, not asking further questions, and they left his office.

Ron looked around, hand near his holster, as soon as they stepped out into the alley. Once bitten, twice shy. He didn't spot an ambush, though.

"No disillusioned people nearby," Hermione whispered.

But Ron was well aware that they could be hiding in the buildings. "Let's go," he said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore, behind them, agreed. "We got what we came for."

Hermione glanced left and right, then started to head away from the main alley.

"Shouldn't we head in the other direction?" Sirius asked.

"We're just looking for some privacy," she replied.

"Ah."

As soon as they turned the next corner, Hermione grabbed Ron and Sirius's hands. A moment later, they appeared in the hotel room, followed by the two Lunas and Dumbledore.

* * *

**Portland, Maine, United States of America, Wizarding World, January 5th, 2006**

"...and Healer Rosengarten has accepted the offer, but he needs three days to get ready for the trip," Hermione finished her summary.

"So… we've got three days to kill in Portland?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed.

"And we're believed to be poachers and so might become the target of the Native American shamans," Harry added.

"That's unlikely," wizarding Luna said. "And they won't find us here in the muggle world, anyway."

"They might go after Mr Rosengarten, though," Hermione pointed out. "Or try to use him as bait to get to us."

Ron nodded. Judging by what he knew of magic, there were a number of ways they could use the old Healer. Like the Imperius Curse.

"If they do come after Mr Rosengarten," Dumbledore said, "they will likely interrogate him - and find out that we aren't actually poachers."

"They might not believe that," Sirius retorted. "Fanatical natives tend to be, well, fanatical."

Ron frowned. Sirius was adamant about having rejected his family's more questionable views, but sometimes, he managed to show that he wasn't quite as different from his ancestors as he liked to claim.

"They lost half their lands to the European wizards before the Statute of Secrecy was implemented and they managed to stop them," Hermione retorted. "It's quite understandable that they take a dim view of poachers encroaching on their homelands."

"Without going into the historical reasons for the current political situation," Ron cut in, "we still need to be prepared for a potential attack or trap."

"We could keep an eye on the Healer in secret," Harry suggested.

"I fear he might misunderstand that, should he find out." Dumbledore shook his head. "Besides, he isn't exactly inexperienced."

Ron was about to mention that experience as a Healer didn't mean that Mr Rosengarten had any experience in fending off assassins and spies, but then he reconsidered. "You think he's more than a Healer."

"I am reasonably certain that he was more than merely a Healer," Dumbledore replied. "A mere Healer wouldn't hide his past as much as Mr Rosengarten does."

"You sound like a veritable Sherlock Holmes," Sirius commented. "Would you care to explain how you deduced that?"

"Elementary," Dumbledore replied, a rare grin on his face. "He took care to hide his origin in Britain. The picture of his school wouldn't have been easily identified as British, the school having been bombed in the war. He also went to great lengths to hide or lose his accent."

"That comes naturally if you live somewhere for a few decades," Sirius retorted.

Dumbledore nodded in acknowledgement. "But in that case, the locals would have known he was British - and would have mentioned it to us."

"He could've moved to Portland from another town," Sirius pointed out.

"He might have - but the wizarding world seems to be much smaller than our own world. Moving from one town to the next - if there are two towns in the first place - wouldn't grant the sort of anonymity it does in our own country."

"He could've come from another American enclave, though," Hermione spoke up.

"Possibly, yes. But if we take into account what you've told us about the history of the East Coast's magical community, and what we saw in Portland's magical quarter, that would also indicate that he has some experience in navigating dangerous waters, so to speak." Dumbledore smiled again. "I'm not a hundred per cent certain, of course, but I am betting quite some money on being correct about Mr Rosengarten."

Well, the old man could afford it. As one of the two owners of the Phoenix Gruppe, he could probably buy up half the wizarding East Coast without using all his cash reserves... Ron blinked. Why hadn't he thought about this before? No, why hadn't Hermione considered this?

"So, if we're not watching over the Healer," Ginny said, "then we still have three days to kill. In Portland. And we have to watch out for magic assassins."

Ron knew that his sister would have been far more enthusiastic if they were in New York, assassins or not.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "We'll have to be a little cautious, but it shouldn't keep us from exploring the city."

"As much as there is to explore," Ginny commented.

"Oh, I'm sure we can fill three days," Sirius said. "The food's supposed to be the best in the country."

"Oh!" Both Lunas perked up in an almost eerie synchrony.

As did Dumbledore - though Ron was sure that the old man had been aware of that fact before they had started their trip.

* * *

An hour later, they were 'sight-seeing' according to Ginny. Or 'maintaining our cover as tourists', as Dumbledore called it. What they actually were doing was sampling pretty much every dessert from every food stand and café in the centre of Portland. At least they had finally picked a café with decent seats.

"Oh… this ice cream is great!" Luna gushed.

"Not quite as good as Fortescue's best, though," her counterpart replied.

"Try it with this cake. Divine," Dumbledore declared, holding up a forkful of hot cake dripping with melting ice cream.

"If I do, I'll have to skip supper," Hermione commented rather drily.

"And that would be a crime - there's this restaurant specialising in lobster that we need to try out!" Sirius held up one of the half a dozen guides he had bought.

"I think I don't need magic to guess that the first thing Rosengarten will tell you will be 'stop eating so many sweets'," Harry told Dumbledore with a snort.

"I expect that there are specialised spells to deal with that," Dumbledore retorted. "Although a little more exercise wouldn't go amiss, I feel. Now that I can once again move without pain."

"I don't know any such spell," Hermione said. "You might need to have regular and frequent visits from a Healer if you plan on keeping this up."

"It would certainly be worth it," Dumbledore told her with a smile.

The two Lunas agreed emphatically, if not verbally - they were still devouring their own desserts.

"It would also require you to hire a trustworthy Healer on a permanent basis," Hermione retorted.

"Which is an obvious long-term goal." Dumbledore tilted his head a little. "Unless you plan to completely abandon the portal, it will need a substantial and well-supplied force to keep it secure."

And a Healer would be part of that - and they would still have enough time to treat Dumbledore and Grindelwald. Would they also, perhaps, treat selected friends and contacts of the two old men? Ron wouldn't put it past them.

Hermione grudgingly acknowledged the point with a sharp nod and focused on her own, far less sugary, fruit dessert.

One order wasn't enough, though, for the Lunas and Dumbledore to finish 'trying out' the café to their satisfaction, and as the rest of the group went to explore the dessert selection, Ron leaned over to Hermione. "Say…"

"Yes?"

"I was wondering if you considered letting Dumbledore finance the prison reforms. He should be able to easily cover the money needed to replace the Dementors."

"He could probably buy half the Wizengamot's votes," she said. "Which is why I would prefer to look into alternative solutions, first."

"Ah." He nodded - he had expected that. Hermione hated owing people - or breaking an agreement. Otherwise, they wouldn't be here.

"There's also the question of sustainability," she went on. "Most of the costs will be recurring costs. Salaries for skilled guards and for curse-breakers to maintain the wards. I don't want to see the abolishment of the Dementors reverted for fiscal reasons."

He wanted to tell her that that wouldn't happen - but governments, including and, perhaps, especially British governments, did not always follow the most rational course of action when it came to their finances. Or anything else. So he nodded in agreement.

"I would still choose to do that, though, before I let things continue as they currently are." Hermione frowned.

"Even if Dumbledore and Grindelwald end up controlling the country?" Ron quickly checked with a glance that the others were still picking desserts and waiting for their turn at the register.

"They wouldn't. They're muggles," she stated. "Sooner or later, their influence would wane."

Ron wasn't quite as convinced, but the others were headed back now. "So, what plans did you come up with already?"

Judging by the deep frown that appeared on her face, she hadn't yet come up with a good plan.

"How do other countries handle their criminals?" he asked instead.

"Most use prisons protected by strong wards that prevent magical travel or people using magic on the walls or doors," she said. "And guards, of course. Dangerous and powerful prisoners are often kept under observation at all times, to prevent them from attempting anything."

"That sounds like a simple solution," he commented.

"It only appears to be simple," she corrected him. "Preparing wards strong enough to achieve that is very difficult. Most wizarding prisons are old - their wards grew in strength over time. Also, wards need to be updated regularly as new spells are developed. The older and stronger such protections are, the more difficult it is to modify them. The Department of Mysteries would likely need to delegate a number of their staff to that task."

"But it would be possible?"

"If you're willing to spend the money needed."

And both of them were aware that the Minister wasn't willing.

"You really should try the hot vanilla cakes," wizarding Luna announced as the rest of the group returned to the table. "It's worth skipping dinner."

Hermione frowned. "Are you sure? Sirius said that the restaurant he's picked is famous for its lobster. You might discover that dinner might be worth skipping a third dessert."

Wizarding Luna blinked for a moment, apparently considering the question. Then she smiled. "In that case, we'll have to go back there tomorrow!"

"Speaking of things being worth it," Sirius cut in, "what were you discussing so earnestly instead of indulging in a little buffet raiding?"

"Ways to reform Azkaban. Especially alternatives to the use of Dementors," Hermione replied - technically correctly. "I abhor the thought that Wizarding Britain is systematically torturing prisoners for financial reasons. They might still be struggling to rebuild the country after the war, but we have to draw the line at torture."

Luna nodded. "Indeed. Once you legalise torture, you open the floodgates of human rights violations, as the USA proved in the War of Terror."

"War _on_ Terror," Sirius corrected her.

"It's a war _of_ terror," she retorted. "And Britain's party to those crimes."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Well, the Americans would probably not stoop to using torture if they had access to magical means of ferreting out the truth. They don't torture people to save money - although the American prison system might qualify, depending on your definition of torture."

Ron saw Luna close her mouth and frown at the old man. Apparently, Dumbledore had pre-empted her argument. Before she could think of another, he spoke up: "Are there other magical creatures that could serve as guards? Preferably creatures that are easy and cheap to keep and handle?"

Wizarding Luna wrinkled her forehead with the spoon stuck in her mouth as she pondered the question. Ron saw her swallow, then nod and pull the spoon out. "In the past, the Scandinavians tried to use trolls as guards."

"Trolls?" Hermione gasped. "How did they keep them from eating the prisoners?"

"That was the problem they couldn't solve," wizarding Luna told her.

"Ah." Hermione wasn't the only one who looked a little queasy at that. That was only natural, of course, for someone who had been attacked by a troll as a child.

"It must have made feeding them cheap, though," Sirius said with a chuckle. No one else laughed, though.

"Very funny, Sirius," Harry told him in a flat voice.

"Bah! Gallows humour is a British tradition," Sirius retorted.

"That wasn't gallows humour," Hermione said. "In any case, the problem is finding a cheap but effective way to keep prisoners from escaping. Without petrifying them, or obliviating them or letting them sleep through their sentence," she added. "If they can sleep through their sentence, it's either no punishment - since for them, no time will seem to have passed - or effectively a death sentence since they won't ever wake up again."

"Ah." Harry looked pensive.

"What about hiring cheap labour?" Dumbledore asked.

"Wizards and witches skilled enough to guard dark wizards and repel attempts to free them by third parties aren't cheap no matter where you hire," Hermione told him. "And even with heavily warded cells and their wands confiscated, you still need to keep an eye on magical prisoners or they might manage a feat of wandless magic of some sort that allowed them to escape."

Dumbledore rubbed his beard. "A fascinating challenge, I think. I shall take some time to ponder this some more."

"I bet you escaped from a few prisons yourself," Sirius said.

Dumbledore inclined his head with a small smile but didn't comment.

* * *

**Portland, Maine, United States of America, Wizarding World, January 6th, 2006**

"Could you pass me the toast?" Hermione asked in their tent's kitchen. "And the sausages, too, please."

"Here," Ron replied as he handed her a plate and a basket of toast. And ignored the groans from the Lunas, who had overeaten last evening, but refused to admit it. Well, they were up already, at least - everyone else was still asleep. Or, perhaps, in Ginny and Harry's case, 'busy'.

"Luna? Want some pudding?" Hermione held up the bowl with the black pudding.

"Uh…"

"Ack."

Ron shook his head. Hermione was obviously enjoying this. He wondered if she had done the same to his counterpart when the wizard had a hangover. Probably, he thought - she could be quite vindictive when she wanted. "Tea anyone?"

"Yes!" "Yes!"

He filled two cups for them, then pushed the sugar bowl in their direction. That caused more groaning, but the two still put enough sugar into their teas to turn it into syrup. He sighed with a wry grin and was about to comment to Hermione when he realised that she wasn't watching - she was listening to something, but he couldn't hear anything.

"There's an owl at the window of our room," she said.

Oh. "Were you expecting any mail?"

She shook her head.

"It could be a trap," Ron said.

"Or one of my friends sent a letter."

"From Britain? By owl?" That was… well, the RSPCA would have something to say about that.

"Hedwig, Harry's owl, is a very special bird."

"Ah." He stood and checked his gun. Constant vigilance.

Hermione led the way upstairs, wand drawn, but he was right behind her. And the Lunas followed him - after informing the others.

The owl pecking at the window wasn't a snowy owl. Ron didn't recognise the species - but he spotted the letter tied to its leg. A post owl.

Hermione cast a few spells Ron didn't recognise before she let the owl inside. A few more spells followed before she cut the letter off with yet another spell and levitated it towards her. She didn't touch it, though, but used her wand to open it.

Then she cursed. "Someone's kidnapped Healer Rosengarten."

"What?" Ron blurted out.

"It's a ransom note," she told him. With a flick of her wand, the floating parchment turned to face him, and he could read it himself.

"They want as much gold as Dumbledore paid upfront," Hermione said as he skimmed the note. "They'll contact us again."

"And then they'll demand yet more gold. I know how these hoodlums think."

That was Dumbledore's voice! Ron turned around and saw that the old man was climbing up the stairs. He was wearing a dressing gown - had he come up straight from bed? It didn't matter. "You suspect a trap?" Ron asked.

"I wouldn't put it past a kidnapper." Dumbledore inclined his head.

"Some kidnappers do play straight," Ron pointed out. "They wouldn't get any ransom from future kidnappings if they didn't stick to a deal."

"Indeed. But I don't think that these are professional kidnappers, so to speak," Dumbledore replied.

"Greedy thugs thinking this is an opportunity?"

"They could be shaman agents, too, trying to drain us of our funds for our supposed hunting trip. Or to use Rosengarten as bait for an ambush," Hermione said.

"They would've interrogated Mr Rosengarten, wouldn't they?" Dumbledore retorted.

"If they have access to Veritaserum. It's a little tricky to brew and restricted in most countries."

"Spies would've been provided with it, I believe - I certainly would have given my own men such a tool for their missions. Especially since the serum is already known to everyone, and, therefore, the risk of providing the enemy with it is nonexistent." Dumbledore shook his head. "No, this seems merely motivated by greed, nothing else."

It did sound plausible, in Ron's opinion. "So, what do we do?" If paying the ransom wouldn't save the Healer, then that left only two choices: To cut their losses and run, or...

"We rescue him, of course." Dumbledore smiled. "It would be craven to leave him to his fate since without us, he wouldn't have been kidnapped."

That sounded noble, but Ron couldn't help thinking that it would also prevent Dumbledore from having to find another Healer. And if Rosengarten wasn't safe in Portland any more, he might be more willing to be hired on a permanent basis…

"We need to find him to save him, first," Hermione pointed out. "That's easier said than done. The kidnappers might not be professionals, but they will have experience in hiding from the law - or bounty hunters. The owl is an official post owl - it won't be able to find them since we don't have their names. And if we did, they would likely be warded against that."

"We could shrink ourselves and hide with the ransom," Luna proposed. "Then grow back to our real size as soon as we are in their hideout."

Ron frowned - he wasn't overly fond of the tactic. Not any more. "Wouldn't they be prepared for such a plan?"

"If they're smart, they'll apparate to a secondary site and sort things out there - only taking the gold and leaving any bags - before returning home," Hermione explained. "But I doubt they'll expect us to hand over the money without Rosengarten being present."

"Indeed. They might try to order us to drop the gold off at a certain place, but they have to be aware that we're not Rosengarten's family, nor would we be aware of their reputation. Which is why I believe that they'll try an ambush at whatever location they want us to leave the gold," Dumbledore said.

"Unless they have a reputation as 'honest' kidnappers and we're merely unaware of it," Ron pointed out.

"That is a possibility as well. We should investigate," Dumbledore acknowledged. "Although I would've expected Mr Rosengarten to comment on the risk of being kidnapped, were it common knowledge that there are kidnappers at large in the area."

"If we investigate, we should focus on his contacts - those he was trusting to keep him safe. Others might have known that we were looking for a Healer, but not that we wanted to hire him. And they wouldn't have been aware of how much money he'd already received," Ron pointed out.

"That's certainly a valid assumption. Although Mr Rosengarten might have been the victim of a robbery, where the criminals didn't expect to acquire as much gold as they did - and, when confronted with the small fortune, then decided to see if there was more from where this had come," Dumbledore said. "Sometimes, it's not a clever plan, but merely luck - or, in this case, bad luck."

"That's possible as well," Ron admitted. He certainly had seen arrests fail because of bad luck. "Either way, we need to investigate the issue. Without drawing attention to ourselves, though."

"Yes." The last thing they needed was more trouble with the locals and a forewarned group of kidnappers.

* * *

**Magical Quarter, Portland, Free Republic of Maine and Vermont, January 6th, 2006**

"I would prefer to disillusion us," Hermione said in a low voice as they approached the side alley where Rosengarten's practice was located. "And yes, I'm aware that you wouldn't be able to see where the rest of us are. It still feels wrong to approach in the open like this."

Ron shared the feeling, but he knew this was necessary. "We need to check Rosengarten's office for clues," he replied. "And disguises work even against that see invisibility spell."

"Human-presence-revealing Charm," she corrected him with a frown.

"Yes, that one." If she were able to cast that on others, then Disillusionment Charms would have been great. Or Invisibility Cloaks. But if they were attacked, Ron would prefer to know where his friends were. Friendly fire wasn't, as Sirius used to say.

"We look completely different," wizarding Luna said. "They won't suspect us."

"Until we break into Rosengarten's office," Hermione retorted as they entered the side alley.

"Well, if they spot us, we switch to Plan B," Luna said.

"Also known as Plan Bait," Harry added.

"Exactly."

Despite the cloak Hermione wore and the rest of her disguise, Ron knew she tensed up - her shoulders twitched. She didn't like Plan B. Well, he didn't like it, either. At least Ginny and Sirius weren't with them, despite their protests - but neither Luna nor Hermione could apparate with more than two others, and bringing all of them was simply too dangerous. "Let's hope we don't get attacked," he said.

"And let's hope we find a few clues," Dumbledore added. With a long, grey beard and grey robes, he looked like a stereotypical wizard. If he had a staff, he'd look like Gandalf the Grey.

But real wizards didn't use staves. They used wands. A pity, really.

He grinned at his own thoughts as they reached the practice and looked around. He couldn't spot anyone observing the entrance. Of course, that didn't have to mean anything.

"The spells on the door haven't been broken," Hermione whispered. "Whoever kidnapped him didn't do it here - or they were invited inside."

"Or they were expert Curse-Breakers and snuck past the wards," wizarding Luna added.

"I don't think expert Curse-Breakers would stoop to kidnapping," Hermione objected.

"They're already robbing graves for goblin gold, aren't they?"

"Let's get inside," Hemione said, apparently ignoring the comment as she knocked on the door. "If anyone's watching us, we're just customers of his."

"Patients," Harry added.

"That, too, is needed," wizarding Luna said.

As expected, the door didn't open, nor did the animated snake appear. "Plan break-in it is, then," Harry said.

"Yes." Hermione led the group away, then down a small alley that let them double back to the house.

But they still needed to break in. And neither Hermione nor wizarding Luna were trained Curse-Breakers. The door didn't leave gaps that would let a shrunken person slip through, either.

Ron glanced at Harry. "Window or roof?"

His friend studied the roof - what they could see from the ground - and then the windows before nodding. "Windows."

"They'll be protected as well."

"Yes, but probably not with as much sophistication as the doors," Dumbledore interjected. "Probably impervious to most tools, but I doubt that the windows are locked with as many defences."

"Climbing up to the first floor will draw attention," Hermione pointed out.

Ron grinned. "Which is why we'll be flying - disillusioned."

"I thought you didn't want me to cast a Disillusionment Charm on you."

"Not when we're in a group. But I can crack a window by myself," he told her.

* * *

Not entirely by himself, he had to admit ten minutes later as he was hanging from the roof in front of the window - Hermione had countered the spell on the window that would have triggered an alarm. But the actual lock on the window itself? Easy. The pane was magically enchanted against breaking, the frame against drilling, but the gap in the frame let him slip in a thin tool through - and with that, he could flip open the latch. A little more difficult than busting a car with a hanger, but not much more difficult.

"Ta-da!" he muttered as the window slowly swung open.

"You've got it open?" Hermione asked in a whisper from above.

"Of course." He'd opened far more complex locks. Moody's training had been comprehensive.

"Alright. Don't move, I'm coming to check the room."

He didn't like her going first. But this wasn't a drug dealer's flat. This was the home of a wizard, and Ron couldn't deal with curses.

He didn't see her, but he could hear her climb down next to him. And he heard her wand move.

"It looks clear. No curses."

She sounded a little nervous, though. Unsure. He hesitated a moment, then nodded to himself. Better him than her. "Good."

Then he climbed inside.

"Ron!" he heard Hermione hiss behind him.

"You said it was clear," he replied, as nonchalantly as he could manage. "I trust you."

He heard her mutter something uncomplimentary under her breath as she followed him into the room.

"Rosengarten's bedroom," he commented as he pushed the window closed and looked around. Old-fashioned canopy bed, old-fashioned secretary desk, old-fashioned armoire… old-fashioned everything, and in many different styles.

"I'd never have guessed," Hermione shot back. "I was sure the bed was meant for patients."

He chuckled. "Fetch the others? Harry needs to see this as well." And his friend would be waiting with impatience.

"Don't leave the room," she said, then he saw the window open again, and he heard her clothes slide over the windowsill.

He had no intention of doing so - but he was still tempted. A little, at least. But braving a potentially cursed flat without magical help would be foolish in the extreme. If only there was a way to get some enchanted goggles that would let him detect magic…

He heard the tell-tale sound of apparition - disapparition in this case. Hermione had gone to fetch the others.

It didn't take her and Luna long to shuttle everyone to the roof and have them climb inside. At which point Hermione finally ended the Disillusionment Charms on everyone once they were out of sight from the street below, and they could start investigating the crime scene - if it was a crime scene.

It didn't look like one. The bed was perfectly made. The secretary desk was locked - but the lock didn't hold a candle to modern security locks, and Ron and Harry could crack those. "The stationery doesn't look like it was disturbed," Ron remarked.

"Just left as it was after finishing a letter, I'd say," Harry replied.

If it had been a notepad, they might have been able to read part of the letter by colouring the dents left by a pen. But with quills? No chance.

"He sealed it. It wasn't just a casual missive," Harry said.

"It could've been," Hermione corrected him. "Many wizards seal every letter, no matter how frivolous."

"Oh, yes. It also makes it harder to know if a letter is important before you open it," wizarding Luna added.

"Couldn't you repair a seal with magic?" Ron asked.

"The wax is enchanted against it," Hermione explained.

"As are the signet rings," wizarding Luna added.

"Ah." Ron should've expected that. Sealing a letter wouldn't make any sense if every wizard could duplicate or repair the seal. On the other hand, it didn't have to make sense if it was a tradition.

"Robes in the armoire," Harry reported. "And an old suit."

The thing looked almost threadbare. Was that by design? Or just a memento? They wouldn't be able to tell. "Let's check his office."

After a few spells cast to determine that Rosengarten hadn't been paranoid enough to trap the floor, they entered the office they had visited yesterday.

"No trace of combat," Harry said.

"Any damage could've been magically repaired," Ron pointed out.

"And cleaned up?" Harry didn't look convinced.

"If they want to erase traces, they'll likely go all the way," Ron said. "But it doesn't look like he was kidnapped here. The dust is all wrong for that."

"Dust?" wizarding Luna asked. "Ah, you're looking for tracks! Like when you're hunting Demiguises."

What the hell were Demiguises? "Sort of, yes," Ron told her. "The dust would've been disturbed if someone had fought, and it's not spread out evenly enough to have been tampered with afterwards."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I doubt that Mr Rosengarten was kidnapped from here." He looked around. "We have to check the other rooms, of course, but - I think he would've met visitors here."

The living room, filled with more old, mismatched furniture showed no signs of combat either. There were stacks of books and newspapers, including, Ron noticed, the Daily Prophet and the Tribune Magique - but also the Times. "British muggleborn?" he asked.

"Or he just wants to appear to be a British muggleborn," Dumbledore said. "Although I doubt that - I think his reaction to my educated guesswork was genuine."

"If he wasn't kidnapped at home, then he was either kidnapped in an ambush on his way somewhere, or at his destination," Harry said.

"He would've been visiting a friend or contact," Ron went on, "to set up contingencies in case we were going to betray him."

"Obviously," Harry agreed. "He wouldn't have trusted a stranger. It has to have been a close acquaintance. Or a friend."

"Or someone he mistook for a friend," Luna added. "Greed can easily ruin a friendship - although in most such cases, there was no real friendship to begin with."

"Let's check the desk for his correspondence," Ron said. "If he trusted them, odds are, he'll have written to his contact before."

The desk had a number of secret compartments. That wasn't unusual, of course; some secretary desks came with half a dozen such compartments. They found a small bag of Galleons - British coins.

"Old ones," Hermione explained as she sorted them.

"None younger than the forties, I assume," Dumbledore said.

"You are correct," Hermione replied.

But the real find was the hidden drawer with the Extension Charm on it: a veritable archive of letters.

"He must have kept every letter he received." Hermione sounded impressed and a little envious.

"Well, the ones he received here, at least," Dumbledore said. "He didn't keep copies of his own correspondence."

"How sloppy," Harry commented with a grin.

"Nevertheless, we'll have to sort through the letters and see if we can discern who would be a likely recipient for his latest correspondence;" Dumbledore stated.

"Obviously," Ron agreed. "Let's start with the newest letters."

It took them half an hour to go through all the letters from last year, but they had a clear picture afterwards.

"It looks like Mr Rosengarten had regular, if not very frequent, correspondence about financial matters with a Mr Ralph Martin," Dumbledore said.

"And they talked about deliveries as well," Ron added. He was no wizard, nor an American, but he knew doublespeak when he saw it - Mr Rosengarten had been receiving smuggled goods.

Dumbledore nodded. "I think we should pay Mr Martin a visit. He might be the last person to have seen Mr Rosengarten."

"Or his kidnapper," Ron said.

"Indeed."

* * *

_She saw the smoke as soon as she appeared at the edge of the forest. Then she saw the Dark Mark floating above it. And the green flames devouring the small hut._

_Next to her, Ron cursed. _

"_We're too late," she said. The Death Eaters were already gone. Which meant the muggleborn family hiding in the hut were dead or captured. She hated herself for thinking it, but she hoped they were dead - prisoners of Voldemort's regime suffered a lot before they were killed, sometimes by being sacrificed in rituals or being fed to Dementors._

"_We need to check," Harry insisted._

"_Fiendfyre won't leave more than ashes," Ron retorted._

"_Then we have to be quick," Harry told them._

"_What if it's a trap?" Hermione asked. "If they captured the Jamesons, they might have found out that they called for help." Help that might've come in time if their contact in the Order had reached them faster. Or if Hermione and her friends hadn't been out searching for more information._

_No, it wasn't their fault that they were late. Just… bad luck._

"_Then we'll deal with them," Harry snapped._

"_I'd rather just fly away," Ron said. "Although they can't have enough Death Eaters to stake out every house they attack."_

"_They only need to get lucky once," Hermione reminded them._

"_We need to know if they've captured people," Harry said._

"_Why? We can't free them," Ron told him. "Mate, I hate to say it - but we can't break them out of the Ministry cells."_

"_If the Order gives us the name of one of their spies…" Harry trailed off._

_Hermione almost snorted. The Order wouldn't risk a spy - or Harry Potter - to save a muggleborn family. They couldn't afford to._

_And, even though she loathed it, they were right not to do so._


	49. Chapter 49: The Kidnapping

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 49: The Kidnapping**

**Magical Quarter, Portland, Free Republic of Maine and Vermont, January 6th, 2006**

"According to these letters, Martin owns a building on the main street," Harry said. "He's got a shop - Rosengarten acquired most of his furniture from him."

"He doesn't sell just furniture, though," Dumbledore commented.

"Hardly." Ron shook his head. "He also sold Rosengarten most of his medical supplies."

"Probably without paying the tariffs," Hermione said. "The Free Republic imposes a substantial tariff on potions and potions ingredients." At the looks this received, she added: "I read up on the country before we travelled here."

"That's probably a way of keeping control of the population - by making it harder for independent Healers to operate," Luna suggested. "Those who cannot afford to pay the higher rates due to the tariffs need to go to the government-owned clinic."

"Or it was originally implemented to protect the business of the clinic." Hermione scoffed.

Luna nodded. "At the request of the owners of the clinic, I suppose."

"Regardless of the reason, the tariffs exist - we would have to check Mr Rosengarten's books to find out if he was a customer of a smuggling business," Dumbledore interjected. "If he kept books in the first place, of course."

"And if he entered the correct figures," Ron added.

"Exactly. It would give us some leverage on the man - although I don't believe that it would hold up in court," the old man said.

"Or what passes for a court here." Hermione sighed. "I'm sure that Mr Martin has friends in high places."

"He'll have made enemies as well," Dumbledore pointed out, "though we lack sufficient intel to exploit that."

"So what can we do?" Hermione asked. "Going and asking Martin whether he's seen Rosengarten doesn't seem like a viable course of action. Unless we were to use Veritaserum - but that's quite a drastic step to take. And if he isn't involved in the kidnapping..."

...then they'd make an enemy out of him for no gain. Ron nodded.

Not to mention that kidnapping a suspected leader of a smuggling organisation wouldn't be easy to begin with. Not impossible, but difficult - and dangerous - enough. Especially since they were in a foreign country and didn't know the lay of the land. And since they were dealing with wizards, of course. On the other hand, they had almost managed to kidnap Kirikov in a similar situation… But they had also almost been killed.

"It is indeed a dilemma," Dumbledore said. "If he is the one behind the kidnapping, then simply asking him a few questions will put him on his guard and endanger us as well as Mr Rosengarten. If he isn't involved, then doing so might still alert the kidnappers, should they have a spy in his organisation or have put him under surveillance. However, if he is behind the kidnapping, then striking at him will gain us the element of surprise. But, if he isn't, we'll make a possibly powerful enemy - and we might alienate Mr Rosengarten for attacking his friend."

"Do you think that Martin is behind the kidnapping?" Ron asked.

"If he isn't, wouldn't he be investigating his friend's disappearance?" Dumbledore tilted his head. "I'm not convinced, though. Mr Martin should be more experienced with such matters than to act as the letter we received seems to indicate. However, that may also be deliberate misdirection. If we had more time, we could investigate him before committing ourselves. But with Mr Rosengarten in danger, I think we'll have to make a decision soon, possibly without sufficient information."

"You mean we'll have to trust our gut," Luna said.

Moody had said that trusting your gut was a last resort - usually reserved for decisions in the middle of combat - and should be based on years of experience.

"Not yet. I think we should see if we can get ahold of some of Mr Martin's employees or business associates and ask them a few questions," Dumbledore replied. "Preferably someone who likes to drink, so a few missing minutes won't appear suspect."

"So, we need to spy on Martin!" wizarding Luna piped up with a smile.

She looked so eager, Ron couldn't help suspecting that she had been hoping for such a turn of events.

"Indeed. I took the liberty of bringing a few tools with me that might be of help," Dumbledore told them.

"Spy gadgets?" Luna asked, in the same tone her counterpart had used.

"I am retired, but the Phoenix Gruppe is also active in the electronic surveillance market."

Of course.

"They might not work inside warded areas," Hermione told him. "Electronics have trouble in such environments."

"If they don't, we won't have lost anything," Dumbledore replied. "And few people never step outside for a smoke or just to get some fresh air. Especially criminals."

That was true, in Ron's experience. But he'd reserve judgement until they had results.

* * *

"Now this is familiar," Harry commented as he set up the bulky camera in what had once been a living room. "Surveillance before a raid."

Ron snorted. "Yes. But we usually had better gear than this." He held up another antiquated-looking camera.

"It can't be helped," Hermione told him. "This building isn't warded any more, but the whole street is under several enchantments to keep the muggles from discovering it."

And that rendered almost all of Dumbledore's spy tools useless. Ron had been looking forward to using a laser microphone. Extendable ears just weren't the same. They looked a little silly. Like a children's toy. And to use them, they had to get far too close to the target building for Ron's taste.

"On the other hand, half the buildings being abandoned makes it easy to set up," Harry said. "No nosy neighbours bothering the new tenants, either."

Ron chuckled. "Or trying to seduce the handsome new neighbour."

"Oh, stuff it!" Harry snapped back.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at them, and Ron explained: "During one of our first surveillance jobs, a young woman took a fancy to Harry. And our bloke here was too polite to tell her off, so she thought he was just shy. Almost ruined the whole investigation." In hindsight, it was rather funny, of course.

Harry scoffed. "Do we have to talk about that club again?"

"No," Ron replied at once.

"Club?" Hermione asked with a half-smile.

"Just an old case," Ron told her. An embarrassing old case he'd rather forget.

"Ah."

Harry was grinning again. "So… the camera's set up."

Ron sighed. They'd have to sort through the pictures without a computer. Moody would be amused - the old man liked to grumble about computers. "Let's hope that some of Martin's minions do use the doors to his building."

"I would expect them to, actually," Hermione said. "He'll have his building warded against Apparition, of course, and I don't think he'll want to let the local Floo Network Authority know who's visiting him."

"Good point," Ron conceded. Still, letting your accomplices walk in and out? Any competent police force would know the extent of the man's network in short order. Although the Republic might not have a competent police force.

And they didn't have enough time to do a proper surveillance job, anyway. The kidnappers would send the next owl soon.

"Alright, let's use the ears before we head to the second building and set up surveillance on Martin's back door," Ron said.

"Alright." Hermione stuck her hand into her bag and pulled out a mass of flesh-coloured things.

Ron sighed - the twins' counterparts had made their creations look like actual ears. He should've expected that. "I wish we could just use a crossbow to shoot them at the windows," he said.

"The impact would alert the people inside," Harry said at once.

"Or float them over," Ron said.

"The building's wards won't allow that," Hermione told them. "Even banishing the ears will be a little tricky."

Ron frowned again as she straddled a broom, then proceeded to disillusion the ears, then the broom and herself. A moment later, he heard her steps as she left the room - she'd take to the air in the caved-in room to the back.

"She'll be fine," Harry said.

"I know," Ron replied. Hermione just had to fly close to Martin's building and banish the ears to the windows from a few yards away, tops. Easy.

But he still worried as he picked up his assault rifle, checked the magazine and took up position at the window.

Just in case something went wrong.

But nothing did - after five minutes, he heard a knock on the window, followed by her voice. "Ron? I've got the ears here."

He couldn't see them, or her, of course. But she could see him. So he held out his hand, and she placed the stalks of the ears into it before flying off and entering the house from the back.

"Let's hope this works," Ron said. Putting the different stalks into the frames they had prepared was a little tricky, what with them being invisible, but he managed before Hermione joined them.

"Invisible magic bugs." Harry chuckled. "And? do they work?"

Ron put his ear to the first end. Nothing. But that could just mean that no one was currently talking in that particular room.

"Usually, people trust the protections on buildings," Hermione said. "So the ears sticking directly to the windows should be inside the privacy wards. But if they are paranoid and use privacy charms inside…"

"Well, they aren't," Harry told them with a grin, tapping the third frame. "I can hear someone talking here."

Ron smiled at Hermione, who beamed at him. Yes! "Alright," he told Harry, "you listen to them while we go and bug the other side."

"OK." Harry sat down in front of the frames. "Don't take too long - if they start talking in two rooms at the same time, I'll need help."

"I should've brought some magical recording equipment," Hermione said.

"Like wax discs?" Ron joked as they mounted her broom.

"Not quite. There are ways to make records," she replied as the broom and then Ron himself faded from view, "but most are very limited, like the Omnioculars. But Professor McGonagall used a phonograph when she taught us how to dance for the Yule Ball in my fourth year." She faded from view as well.

"Gramophones?" He had been joking. "They use gramophones while they can store video magically?"

"Yes." With his arms around her waist, he felt her shrug, then the boom lifted off, and they were on their way to the second building they had picked out.

* * *

"_...pass me the Tribune Magique."_

"_I haven't finished it yet."_

"_You've left it on the side table for the last five minutes!"_

"_I was just taking a break."_

"_So keep taking a break. I'll be done in five minutes."_

"_You don't even speak French."_

"_That's exactly why I'll be done quickly."_

Hermione sighed. "This is so banal… An hour of inane talk without anything worthwhile."

"That's ninety-five per cent of every surveillance job," Ron told her.

"I wouldn't claim that the discussions we've heard so far were entirely useless," Dumbledore cut in. "Every conversation we overhear gives us more insight into Martin's organisation."

"All we really need is to know whether they kidnapped Mr Rosengarten and where they're keeping him prisoner," Hermione replied. "Whether or not some of Martin's minions speak French isn't knowledge we'll need."

"Unless we suddenly do," Dumbledore told her with a sly smile.

Hermione was about to ask what situation would require them to know such information when Ron heard a new voice asking about the owl. "Shhhhh!" he hissed and put his head closer to the extendable ear. "Someone mentioned an owl."

He saw Hermione freeze for a moment and Dumbledore's smile widen a little more.

"_Isn't it in its cage?"_

"_I wouldn't be asking you if she were in her cage."_

"_Then she's probably out hunting."_

"_What? Why did you let her out?"_

"_We always let your owls out in the evening. On your orders."_

"_But she isn't my owl, you dolts! I acquired her just to deliver this note since I can't send it with my own owl!"_

"_We didn't know that."_

"_Aren't owls supposed to know when you want to send a letter?"_

"_They're owls, not Seers."_

"_Or Legilimenses."_

"_Merde!"_

"So we'll soon know if they are the kidnappers," Dumbledore said.

"Let's hope no one's watching her wing her way towards us," Ron replied. He didn't fancy getting ambushed instead of ambushing the enemy.

"Unlikely - it's already dark outside," Hermione told them. "We'll have to hope they send the owl to you," she added with a nod to Dumbledore. "If they don't, then I'll have to check with Ginny and Sirius at the motel room."

Better her than him, Ron thought - neither his sister nor Harry's godfather had been happy to remain behind and hold down the fort. And they had made that perfectly clear. But among the muggles in their group, they had the least experience with surveillance.

Ron was almost happy about the Muggle-Repelling Charms covering the entrances to the Magical Quarter - otherwise, Ginny and Sirius probably would have joined them anyway. And that wouldn't have been safe for them. Or for anyone. Perhaps…

The sight of an owl entering the room interrupted his thoughts. Jackpot!, he thought as the bird made a beeline for Dumbledore.

The old man waited until Hermione had cast a few spells to check the letter before he took it and opened it. Ron saw his eyebrows twitch for a moment. "As expected - they demand that we drop off the gold at a designated place, after which Mr Rosengaten will be released."

Ron chuckled. "Do they think anyone will fall for that?"

"I doubt that," Dumbledore replied. "And, in light of Mr Martin's apparent success in his chosen profession, I think this is a deliberate misdirection. We're supposed to underestimate him."

Ron frowned. That was bad news - most kidnappers would aim to make the victim's family believe they were dealing with a professional, not an amateur, so they would pay the ransom and trust the kidnappers to hold up their side of the deal. If they wanted to be underestimated and knew about their cover… "It's a trap."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed with a toothy smile. "They are after something more than just the ransom."

"Could they be working with the Tribal Nations?" Hermione asked.

"If they interrogated Rosengarten, they'd know that's just a cover," Ron pointed out.

"But the shamans wouldn't know that," she retorted. "Martin might be planning to kill us for a reward or favour from them."

"Quite likely," Dumbledore said. "But Mr Martin might be merely hedging his bets. I think he wants, as the saying goes, to milk this opportunity for everything he can get - the ransom, information about our actual goals, a reward from the Tribal Nations and perhaps he's planning to frame us as spies for Québec as well…"

"What a nice man," Ron commented.

"Indeed. But now that we know that he's behind this, we can conduct our search for Mr Rosengarten a bit more directly."

Ah.

"And how do we do that?" Hermione asked. "Go after Martin directly?"

"If the opportunity presents itself, yes. However, our goal is to save Mr Rosengarten. Anything else is of secondary importance," Dumbledore told her. "I do believe, however, that we should discuss this with the others."

Oh, right. Harry would be mad if they tried to make such decisions without him, and Ginny and Sirius… Ron winced. Although… "Someone needs to keep listening in, though. Two of us, actually."

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. "We should wait until Mr Martin has gone to sleep so we won't miss out on potential intelligence."

"When do the kidnappers expect the money to be dropped off? And where?" Hermione asked.

"Tomorrow before six pm, and in the ruins of a manor - Pillbury Manor to be exact," Dumbledore replied. "I'm planning to drop off a response to Mr Martin's demands, requiring proof that Mr Rosengarten is alive and unharmed."

"They might send us his ear or finger as 'proof'," Ron pointed out.

"That is a risk, indeed, but it's one we have to take. Sending Mr Martin a letter would show our hand and provoke a much harsher reaction, I think."

Right. Ron nodded. "So… we've got a few more hours to spend listening to criminals banter. Or what they take for banter."

"I believe so, although Mr Martin might be a man who likes to go to bed early and rise early in the morning," Dumbledore said.

Unlikely, Ron thought. The kind of business in which the man was involved was usually conducted after dark.

"I'll inform the others," Hermione said, raising her wand. A moment later, she disapparated.

Ron turned to study the house. If this were a normal building, not a magical one, he'd know exactly how to storm it. Or how to sneak inside. With magic in play, though… He sighed.

"The principles remain the same," Dumbledore commented, as if he had read Ron's mind. "Just the tools are different compared to your previous missions."

Ron had played enough D&D games to know that the old spymaster wasn't entirely correct. Magic changed the rules. Most importantly, you needed magic to deal with magic. And in this case, they were facing experienced wizards, not Russian thugs. Martin's men wouldn't panic when faced with a spell or potion. They would expect that.

But would they expect non-magical attacks?

* * *

**Portland, Maine, United States of America, Wizarding World, January 7th, 2006**

"We should grab one of the thugs and interrogate them," Sirius said. "Find out where they are holding Rosengarten and then storm the place."

"If we can kidnap one of Mr Martin's accomplices, we can use Polyjuice Potion to impersonate them and infiltrate the building," Hermione retorted.

"Won't they be expecting that?" Luna asked.

"They will have taken precautions," Hermione admitted, "but unless someone made a breakthrough during my absence, the only known countermeasure for Polyjuice Potion is the Thief's Downfall, and I doubt that Mr Martin has access to it - the goblins fiercely protect their secrets."

"There'll be passwords, though," Ron said. "We've heard some of them."

"If we can use Veritaserum on a thug, we'll know the passwords." Hermione wasn't letting go of her plan.

"And this time your plan should work," wizarding Luna said with a smile.

"'This time'?" Harry asked.

"Oh, in my first year, everyone wondered who was behind the attacks at Hogwarts, and Hermione brewed Polyjuice Potion to let Harry and Ron impersonate Crabbe and Goyle in order to spy on Malfoy," wizarding Luna said. "Hermione would've gone as well, but she had a potions mishap."

"It wasn't a potions mishap - I accidentally used cat hair instead of human hair for my potion."

"You turned into a cat?" Ginny blurted out.

"No, I turned into a sort of hybrid creature - I had fur, cat ears and eyes, whiskers and a tail." Hermione shuddered. "And I was stuck like that for weeks."

Ron nodded, though he couldn't help feeling curious about how Hermione had looked.

"Wow." Luna whistled. "Furries would love that."

"Muggles would love a lot of magic," Hermione said, "but the Statute of Secrecy prohibits using magic on muggles."

"Not in our world," Luna said.

"It might not be illegal, but it would draw a lot of attention. A hell of a lot of attention," Ron told her. "The kind of attention that makes the Russian attacks look like jokes."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "We can't expose magic, or we'd be hounded for the rest of our lives."

"I concur. Just hiding the portal will require a significant effort. As will convincing Her Majesty's Government that the new spatial manipulation technology they were promised turned out not to be feasible after all," Dumbledore said.

Hermione winced but didn't retort.

"In any case, I think sending in someone by themselves, even if disguised, is too dangerous," the old spymaster went on. "As much as I appreciate undercover work, I think this situation requires a more direct tactic."

* * *

**Magical Quarter, Portland, Free Republic of Maine and Vermont, January 7th, 2006**

Ron heard the sound of Apparition behind him and grabbed his rifle as he turned around - just in case. But it was Hermione, with Dumbledore. As expected.

"We've dropped off our answer," Dumbledore said. "Quite impressive ruins, to be honest - the manor must have been a sight to see when it was whole. Such a shame it was destroyed."

"We destroyed older manors in our war." Hermione pressed her lips together for a moment. She was probably remembering Malfoy Manor.

Ron reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"The necessities of war." Dumbledore sighed. "I'm very familiar with them." He nodded at Ron. "Have you seen any prospective targets?"

"No." Ron shook his head and released Hermione. "Nor did I hear anything interesting. But it's still afternoon."

"And our enemies are more likely to skulk around at night," the old man replied. "Not to mention that they won't expect our answer until the evening."

"They didn't have anyone watching the ruins - we checked," Hermione said. "And kidnapping one of Martin's minions will warn him."

"Indeed. We should first wait and see if we manage to overhear his reaction to our missive." Dumbledore inclined his head. "With a little luck, we might gather valuable information without exposing ourselves."

They hadn't had much luck, lately, so perhaps they were due some. Ron wasn't optimistic, though. "Let's hope so," he said anyway.

* * *

Six pm. And nothing of value had been overheard. It really was like a typical surveillance job. Boring. Well, they also hadn't overheard Martin's men planning an ambush, so that was something. Not much, though.

Ron sighed as he finished his cookie, then put the wrappings together with the other remains of his meal and handed it to Hermione, who stashed it in her bag.

"We really need to find a way to extend the extendable ears," he said. "Or, even better, to record their results." That way they could've been together with the others.

Hermione frowned - not at him, but likely at herself.

Ron winced. He hadn't meant it as criticism - he had just been complaining, as usual during a surveillance job. It wasn't her fault that the shops in muggle Portland didn't stock antique recorders.

"Well, even with magic, you cannot work miracles. Proper tools require time to be developed. In the past, missions have failed, sometimes spectacularly, due to equipment that hadn't been properly constructed or tested," Dumbledore added. "As they are, the ears work as advertised."

"We'll still have to develop improved versions - if only to deal with our problems in your world," Hermione said.

"Indeed."

Yes, they had to… Ron blinked and held up his hand. "Something's happening."

The others fell silent and moved closer.

"_...got it?"_

"_Mr Martin! There was no gold. Just a letter!"_

"_As expected."_

"_Really?"_

"_People who play these kinds of games wouldn't fall for such a simple ploy."_

_Ron heard the man, presumably Martin, laugh. _

"_Let's see what they wrote. Open it."_

"_Yes, Mr Martin."_

Ron grimaced. If they had cursed the letter, that would've been one minion less.

"_Uh… "We're not going to pay without proof that you have Mr Rosengarten and that he's still alive and in good health'."_

"'_In good health'? One would almost suspect that they are only interested in dear Abraham's services and not in his person."_

The rest of the thugs laughed at the weak joke.

"_Well, it seems we need to provide some proof of my good friend's continued existence."_

"_Should I go get him?"_

"_Not yet, Chris. Let me think about this a little longer. I'll call when I need you."_

"_Yes, Mr Martin."_

So, this 'Chris' knew where Rosengarten was being held. Ron nodded. Now if only they knew what the man looked like...

"Interesting. Mr Martin might be having second thoughts about his response," Dumbledore said. "I would have expected him to have already planned his next action - unless, despite his claims, he was surprised by our refusal to pay a ransom. Which is rather unlikely." He chuckled. "Unfortunately, he doesn't seem to be in the habit of talking to himself when planning."

Ron flashed a small smile at that - planning for your enemies to make mistakes was rarely a good idea.

"All we need is this 'Chris'," Hermione said. "We should be able to recognise his voice."

"Then we should hope that he is eating out - preferably in a chatty mood."

She scowled at the implied criticism, but Ron had to agree with the old spymaster - the chance of kidnapping this 'Chris' wasn't very high. "We might do better just kidnapping a thug at the first opportunity." He didn't think that only 'Chris' would know where Rosengarten was held.

"But if we grab the wrong thug, Martin will be warned, and we won't know where Rosengarten is," Hermione retorted.

"That is a risk that we have to take, in my opinion," Dumbledore said. "I don't expect many of Mr Martin's employees to have the evening off, anyway - not in the middle of a kidnapping."

Hermione pressed her lips together and huffed, but didn't offer any counter-argument.

"I think it would be best if all of us were present, in case we need to act swiftly," Dumbledore went on.

"I'll fetch them." Hermione disapparated without waiting for an answer or acknowledgement.

Dumbledore sighed softly.

Ron ignored it. Hermione hated losing an argument a little too much, but Ron wouldn't start talking behind her back about her with Dumbledore.

A moment later, she reappeared, together with Sirius and Ginny. The older man was grinning. "Finally!"

"We need to kidnap one of Martin's thugs first," Ron told him.

"Bah. What for?"

"Storming the building without sufficient intel about our objective wouldn't be advisable, in my opinion and experience," Dumbledore told him.

"Well, in my experience, storming a building generally works very well. Once you have taken it, you can search it at leisure," Sirius replied with a sigh.

"We can't take our time," Hermione said. "If we take too long, the Republic's soldiers will arrive. And we don't want to fight them," she added when Sirius opened his mouth.

"Bah."

Ron suppressed a grin.

"So, more waiting," Ginny said. "But at least we'll be helping." She looked round. "Harry's with the Lunas?"

Ron nodded, even though he knew the question was rhetorical - Ginny knew how they were split up for this.

"Not for much longer, though," Hermione said. "We'll need to get ready for a kidnapping."

Ron softly chuckled. If Luna were here, she'd have called it a counter-kidnapping.

* * *

Ron kept a grip on the taser in his pocket as he followed the wizard - not Chris, as far as he could tell - through the street. The absence of a crowd made it a little harder than usual - in London, people would be filling the street at this time of the evening - but the small size of the Magical Quarter compensated for that, as the odds of people going in the same direction were much higher.

But being spotted would also put him in much greater danger. Criminals in London couldn't turn you into a pig - or worse. A taser and a pistol weren't much to fight a wizard. Especially one you wanted to capture alive and "reasonably unhurt", as Moody would call it, to interrogate.

He resisted the urge to glance up. Hermione was flying above them, disillusioned - and out of range of the detection spells that could still reveal her presence. Even if he looked up he wouldn't be able to see her.

But she would be able to see him and know he was trying to look for her.

He shook his head and looked round. The burly man in front of him had entered a shop. No one else was between him and the thug. There was a couple a little way behind him, walking slowly in the same direction. They would be the only witnesses - could he risk it? If the thug went into a tavern, it would be far harder to kidnap him without causing a ruckus and Martin finding out immediately.

Ah, well - time to roll the dice and play distraction. He turned around and walked towards the couple. "Excuse me!" he called out from five yards away. "I'm looking for a bookstore. Could you help me?" As he stepped closer, he pulled out a large map of muggle Portland, unfolded it and held it up to distract them as he circled round them until they had turned their backs to the thug. "I think I got lost."

"What's this?" the man asked.

"A map. Of Portland," he said with a smile. "I think I got lost."

"That's…" The woman frowned. "Muggle Portland?"

"Yes?" Ron smiled. "I couldn't find a map of just the Magical Quarter, you see…" And he didn't want them to realise he was a muggle and obliviate him.

"But… this map doesn't show the Magical Quarter."

"Well, that's why I got lost, I think." He kept smiling at them.

Behind them, the thug suddenly collapsed, struck by a red spell. A moment later, the stunned wizard disappeared - Hermione had cast a Disillusionment Charm.

* * *

By the time the couple finally managed to give him directions to the bookstore, Hermione had had ample time to disapparate with the stunned thug.

Ron really wanted enchanted glasses or a visor which would let him spot invisible people - you couldn't really defend against what you couldn't see. And he didn't like only serving as a distraction, either.

Regardless, it was now time to withdraw. He walked towards the bookstore, turning into a side alley before he reached it. It looked empty, but...

"I'm here," he heard Hermione's voice. A moment later, he felt her hand grip his.

And then he felt as if he were being compressed and shot through a narrow pipe as she apparated with him.

He shook his head as soon as he reappeared in their motel. He'd never get used to that sensation. It explained - apart from the difficulty, of course - why wizards used the Floo Network and brooms to travel. Or Portkeys.

Hermione faded into view next to him. "He's down in the trunk."

He nodded in return. "Let's go, then." They didn't have much time to lose, and even with Veritaserum, a rushed interrogation was a bad idea.

Downstairs, the entrance hall of the tent had been turned into an impromptu interrogation room. The thug was tied to a chair but still stunned.

"No plastic sheets covering the floor?" Ron asked.

"He wouldn't make the association," Hermione replied with a frown. "And with Veritaserum, we don't need to scare him, anyway."

"It would've been funny, though," Ron replied.

She frowned some more. "We're on a tight timetable. Without me, the others won't be able to retreat in a timely manner, should they be discovered."

"I trust that Mr Potter and Mr Black will be able to hold out until Miss Lovegood has dropped off Luna and returned to them," Dumbledore said. "However, we should do what we can to avoid such a situation. Which, in this case, means expediting our interrogation."

"Yes," Hermione said. She let three drops fall on his tongue, then woke him up with a flick of her wand.

* * *

"...and do you know where Mr Rosengarten, the kidnapped Healer, is being held?"

"Yes."

"Where is he being held?"

"In a safe house."

"Where is the safe house?"

"An old house in the countryside."

Ron suppressed a sigh. That wasn't very helpful. "Can you mark the location on a map?"

"I don't know."

Ron clenched his teeth. 'Dumb criminal' was not an insult, but a factual description in this case. Barry Kelnut, as the man had said was his name, had a very limited mind.

"It seems magical transportation has some drawbacks - at least for us. They work out to Mr Martin's advantage," Dumbledore commented.

"If I knew Legilimency I could read his mind and Apparate there," Hermione muttered.

"If wishes were horses…" Dumbledore shrugged. "Let's see if he can mark the house's location."

Ron laid out his map, but the thug only stared at it, looking confused.

"Unless you have a magical means to compel him to help us, I do not think that this will work."

Hermione sighed again. "It's tricky, but a False Memory Charm might convince him that Mr Martin just ordered him to fetch Mr Rosengarten. But I would have to convince him to take me with him - and even in disguise, that will complicate things. A Confundus Charm would facilitate matters, but he might not manage to apparate under its effects."

"Can you convince him that you're a new employee he's supposed to show around?" Ron asked.

Hermione frowned, then nodded. "I think that might be the best option."

"Then let us try it. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that Mr Martin discovers the absence of our guest here. And in that case he might order his men to move Mr Rosengarten."

Hermione nodded - a little reluctantly, in Ron's opinion - and aimed her wand at the thug's head before moving it in a complicated pattern while muttering something he didn't catch.

After a few minutes had passed, Hermione sighed and closed her eyes, shoulders slumping as she lowered her wand. "Done. Let's hope it worked." She turned to look at Ron. "I made him think you're a new employee as well."

He smiled at that.

"I'll be in my room, then," Dumbledore said, "so as not to confuse our unwitting guide. I assume you'll stun him again, once you've confirmed the location?"

"Yes. We'll return and fetch everyone else."

"Good." The old man stepped out with a nod to both of them.

Hermione took a deep breath. "So… let's administer the counteragent."

And hope the spells took, Ron thought as Hermione untied Kelnut and made him drink from a vial.

The man blinked several times. "Ugh…"

"Barry?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

"Aren't you supposed to take us to the prisoner so we can feed him tomorrow?" she asked.

"What?"

"You said you'd apparate us there so we can make the trip tomorrow."

More blinking. "I did?"

"Yes," Hermione inclined her head. "Mr Martin's orders. Have you been drinking?"

"Uh… no?"

Ron cleared his throat. "So, mind apparating us now?"

"Uh… alright."

They had to grab his hand and arm, but he managed to draw his wand. Ron held his breath - he remembered what Hermione had told him about splinching.

They reappeared in a small field - or a large garden - near a decrepit-looking old farmhouse.

Hermione's wand rose, and Kelnut fell, stunned. Ron dropped to the ground as well, followed by Hermione - it wouldn't do to be seen by anyone in the house.

A moment later, all of them were back in the tent, where a smiling Dumbledore greeted them.

"Were you successful?"

Hermione didn't answer right away, so Ron did. "Yes, we were. Let's get the others so we can assault the place."

* * *

"_There's the house," Harry whispered as he slid down a little further into the ditch in which they were hiding. "Just where it's supposed to be."_

"_But shouldn't there be guards?" Ron asked, fiddling with his Omnioculars._

"_The Snatchers might not have bothered setting guards and trusted their secrecy instead," she suggested._

"_Damn stupid of them," Ron commented, crawling a little further up and making her suppress the urge to pull him back. "But I don't see any."_

"_They might be inside the house," Harry said. "Hiding to catch us by surprise."_

_That was a worrying possibility. But they had to get into the house to free the prisoners the Snatchers had taken there for 'interrogation'. One of them was a muggleborn spellcrafter - and they needed her help to deal with the protections on one of the Horcruxes. They had been lucky the Snatchers hadn't taken her to the Ministry right away._

"_I need to get closer to check the wards on the house," she told her friends._

"_Right. Take my Cloak," Harry said. _

_That would protect her against the Human-presence-revealing Charm. She nodded, took his Cloak, and covered herself with it. Then she climbed up and walked towards the house - carefully. She didn't want to walk into a trap._

_There were no traps, though. And the protections on the house were… lacklustre. They wouldn't even need to call Bill for this. Hermione smiled grimly as she drew her wand and started to unravel the house's defences._

_An hour later, they entered the house, wands drawn, and caught the Snatchers sleeping. Three of them were dead before they realised they were under attack. The other three were killed while trying to grab their wands._

_Two minutes after that, they found the prisoners' bodies._


	50. Chapter 50: The Raid

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 50: The Raid**

**Portland, Maine, United States of America, Wizarding World, January 7th, 2006**

Ron saw Hermione shake her head and took a step towards her.

"Sorry," she said. "I just remembered another attack on a farmhouse. It... didn't end well."

"Ah." Another flashback to the war, then. There wasn't much he could do to help her with that. Certainly not now. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," she replied. "Let's get the others."

She disapparated a moment later.

It didn't take her long to return with Harry, Sirius and the Lunas.

"Alright. There's no time to waste. I'll deal with the wards on the house - the fact that Ron could see the house means that there isn't a Muggle-Repelling Charm on it, or that we appeared inside its area of effect," Hermione said while everyone got their gear and weapons ready. "I believe it's the latter since I don't see Mr Martin skimping on protection from muggles for a safe house. Keeping it secret would suffice to keep it safe from wizards thanks to the low numbers of wizards and witches, but muggles would notice and wonder about a derelict farmhouse. Especially if the chimney is in use."

Ah. That explained why Ron had been able to see it.

"I presume you expect further defences, though." Dumbledore inclined his head.

"At the very least there should be an Anti-Apparation Jinx on the house. Otherwise, Kelnut could've apparated directly into the building."

"And spells to keep out animals," wizarding Luna added with a nod. "That sort of thug doesn't like animals and won't want to share their home with them."

"Yes," Hermione said. "But those won't stop us unless we planned to send mice and cats at them. Which we won't."

"Cats can be vicious," wizarding Luna retorted.

"But we wouldn't want to risk them getting hurt."

Ron cleared his throat. "Isn't dealing with those sorts of wards very dangerous? How old are they?"

"I don't think the farmhouse's wards are old enough to cause difficulties," Hermione retorted. "That would require centuries."

Ron nodded - the house hadn't looked old enough. Less than a century, in his estimate, but he wasn't an expert on American architecture.

"In any case, should the wards turn out to be too strong, I'll notice that quickly, and then we'll have to reconsider our plans," Hermione said.

"Such as blowing our way into the house?" Sirius asked.

"There will be spells reinforcing the walls, windows and doors," she replied. "And any force sufficient to breach the walls will threaten anyone inside."

"Won't they keep Rosengarten in the basement?" Kelnut had said that's what they were doing.

"We can't count on that. They might have changed their procedures."

"We should be able to find a location that minimises the risk of hurting Mr Rosengarten," Dumbledore added. "I don't think they'll keep a hostage in their living room."

"And Extension Charms should also reduce the danger," wizarding Luna said.

"And we have to hurry," Harry cut in. "The longer we take, the higher the chance that Martin hears that Kelnut's gone missing."

Sirius grinned. "So… it looks like we'll have to use my plan."

"Only if the protections are too strong to be dismantled quickly," Hermione told him with a frown.

"Let's go, then!" Ginny said.

Hermione sighed but nodded and reached out to Ron and wizarding Luna. "We'll be right back for the rest of you."

Another disturbing sensation later, Ron was back in the field, dropping on the ground at once and aiming his rifle at the house - just in case. Two popping sounds announced Hermione and Luna's departure.

The house did look old, and the farm implements, as well as the barn nearby, looked derelict, but the house proper was in good shape with all its windows intact and a whole, undamaged roof - something a passerby or hiker might notice. And there was a faint trail of smoke rising from the chimney.

Harry, Sirius, Luna and Ginny arrived and joined him on the ground together with Hermione while wizarding Luna went to fetch Dumbledore.

"Spread out and take cover!" Ron told them. He looked at Harry, who nodded at him before moving so Luna and Ginny would be between them.

Just in case.

"I've got the machine gun," Sirius said. "I'll set up in the ravine there. Hermione?"

She nodded. "We're inside a Muggle-Repelling Charm - and not an old one."

"I meant: can you come with me and get me my gear?"

"Of course." The two moved over to the spot he'd indicated just as wizarding Luna reappeared with Dumbledore.

"I'll disillusion myself and move closer," Hermione told them in a low voice. "Hold your fire."

"Alright," Ron whispered.

She moved her wand and faded from view.

Ron took a deep breath. He hated waiting while she put herself in danger. But there was nothing he could do about it. Not right now, at least. He couldn't even watch her working on the wards. He had to trust that wizarding Luna would intervene if anything were to happen.

He gripped his rifle a bit more tightly and focused on the farmhouse. The half-moon was just bright enough to see it without night vision gear. From his position, he couldn't see through the dusty windows, but according to Kelnut, there were two guards in the house. Although as Dumbledore had said - schedules and plans changed, and any intelligence could be outdated the moment you got it. And they didn't know who'd be on guard, anyway - Kelnut hadn't remembered the actual schedule.

But they knew the sorts of wizards who made up Martin's gang: veterans of the war against Québec. Like Kelnut himself. Although unlike Kelnut, the guards in the house were unlikely to be taken by surprise. Ron wasn't looking forward to fighting wizards with actual combat experience. The wizards trying to ambush them in Knockturn Alley had been thugs - criminals used to holding up civilians. They hadn't been used to people fighting back.

He clenched his teeth. If they disillusioned themselves, he wouldn't be able to see them. If they cast a shield, it would stop his bullets - well, for a while, at least; Hermione had told them that shields didn't last forever and would shatter if enough force was applied to them. Still, all it would take for Ron to die would be for one spell to hit him…

How long was Hermione taking? Not that he wanted her to hurry, but the longer this took, the higher the risk of Rosengarten being moved - or the guards being reinforced. If not for the danger of distracting her at a crucial moment, he'd ask for an update.

He caught Ginny moving - crawling - towards him. "Sirius spotted movement in the living room," she reported as she passed him to inform the others.

That meant that at least one guard was up. So much for lazy criminals trusting their spells to alert them to intruders. It was bad enough that magic turned old glass panels into armoured glass.

He checked his watch - a mechanical model - to see how much time had passed since Hermione had moved forward. Not enough. Damn.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. This was like a normal case. He just had to wait until the signal was given to storm the building. He had done this before. Nothing to it.

But it wasn't a normal case. They were dealing with magic. And Hermione was risking her life dismantling the spells protecting the criminals. He shook his head and studied the house once more. It hadn't changed. Didn't the thugs come out for a smoke? Or did they smoke inside? Perhaps they could use an animal to lure them outside - would a fox raising havoc in the yard be enough? A caterwauling tomcat? Or would they just cast a spell to drown out the noise?

Breaching the door would probably be more effective. Perhaps…

A loud whistle interrupted his thoughts. That was the signal - the wards were down!

And Hermione faded into view - too close to the house, damn it!

A moment later, the wall between the door and the closest window disappeared in an explosion.

Ron jumped up and rushed forward. Hermione was moving to the side, and he changed direction towards her, keeping the muzzle of his rifle trained on the settling cloud. Something flashed and vanished in it - a spell! Then an explosion shook the house.

He reached Hermione a moment before she sent another spell into the cloud and passed her, crouching down at the wall next to the door. Which was shattered, he noticed now that the dust thrown up by the explosion was mostly gone.

Hermione joined him, followed by Harry. Ginny and the Lunas would be covering the rear of the house, and Sirius the other side of the living room with Dumbledore.

That left them to charge inside. Ron grabbed a flashbang, pulled the pin and threw it inside.

As soon as it went off, he jumped up and rushed inside, throwing himself into a combat roll. Something green passed over his head, and something red just missed him. He rolled over his shoulder, ignoring the debris digging into his back, and came up with his rifle aimed at a figure standing in the corner, turning towards him.

He kept going and hosed the man down with a long burst, but the bullets splashed against a barrier in the air - a shield. Then a red spell hit the barrier, and his next burst took the man down. Another spell missed him by inches - from someone stood in the doorway to the kitchen or whatever the next room was.

Ron dropped to the floor and wrenched his rifle around, but before he could fire, the man jumped to the side.

More shots followed, then he heard Harry's voice. "Got him."

Ron was already moving towards the kitchen. Next to the door, there was the trapdoor leading to the basement.

"Wait! Let me check for spells!" Hermione yelled, and Ron pulled up short.

Damn. He had almost forgotten!

He crouched down as she passed him and flicked her wand.

Harry stepped into the doorway, rifle in one hand, waving towards the others outside. "Come!" he yelled.

By the time Sirius - struggling with both a machine gun and a rocket launcher - reached the house, everyone else was inside, and Hermione had finished checking the trapdoor and the stairs beneath for curses.

Ron pushed past her, ignoring her gasp of protest as he flicked the flashlight on his rifle on and scanned the basement. "It's a dungeon," he muttered.

"A dungeon?" he heard Hermione ask, followed by: "No hidden persons."

He descended with his rifle ready to fire anyway. There was a sturdy-looking door with two openings that could be slid open - one right above the floor, one at head height. A cell. "That doesn't look like the work of amateurs," he commented.

"Nothing a spell couldn't do," Hermione replied. "Mr Rosengarten?"

No answer. Ron stepped up to the wall next to the door, reached over and opened the upper slit. No curse shot through the opening, nor did that door explode in a cloud of splinters.

He still checked with a mirror, but it was too dark inside the cell to make out anything. "I need some light," he said.

Hermione cast a spell that made the tip of her wand light up and held it next to his mirror - from the other side of the doorway.

And Ron could see that there was a figure on the floor of the cell. Rosengarten? "There's someone inside."

"Alohomora!"

The door unlocked, and Ron pulled it open, quickly using the flashlight to check the cell. The man looked like Rosengarten.

"There's no one else in there," Hermione said.

Ron was already moving, crouching down and reaching out to the Healer. Rosengarten didn't react.

"Stunned," Hermione said. "Or potioned. Rennervate!"

The old man stirred and groaned.

"Mr Rosegarten?" Hermione leaned forward a little.

"Who?"

"We're with Dumbledore. We're here to save you," she told him.

"What?"

"Can you walk?" Ron asked.

"Do you know where your wand is?" Hermione added.

"No… they took it..." he replied.

Tough. He'd have to buy a new one. "Let's get you out of here," Ron said, bending to help the man stand up.

"We've got Mr Rosengarten," Hermione announced. "Luna, get rid of the Anti-Apparition Jinx!"

"Alright!" A few seconds later, wizarding Luna added: "Uh…"

Ron drew a sharp breath and approached the stairs with Rosengarten leaning on him. He knew that Luna only used that sort of tone if something had gone terribly wrong.

"What?" Hermione snapped, rushing upstairs.

"There's more than one jinx," wizarding Luna said. "A lot more."

Hermione gasped. "Someone's trying to trap us here!"

Martin. "The guards must have alerted him!" Ron snapped. "Come on, Mr Rosengarten."

"Close the doors! Reinforce the walls!" Hermione yelled, followed by frantic spellcasting.

"Lights out!" Harry hissed.

"Do you see anyone?" Ron heard Sirius ask.

"No one," Harry replied.

"They must be disillusioned and staying outside the range of our charms," wizarding Luna added as Ron and Rosengarten reached the ground floor.

"We need to leave - they can keep recasting the Anti-Apparition and Anti-Portkey Jinxes faster than we can dispel them," Hermione said.

"They're just waiting for us to leave the house," Sirius retorted. "Probably waiting for reinforcements." He was kneeling at one window, peering out through the window, which must have been repaired with magic.

"It could be a bluff," Harry said. "There could be a single wizard out there, hoping we won't break out before more arrive."

"Mr Martin has had ample time to gather more than one thug," Dumbledore said. "Good evening, Mr Rosengarten. I apologise for the trouble we may have caused you."

"I shouldn't have trusted him," Rosengarten replied.

Hermione handed him two wands. "See if one of these works for you," she said.

"Thank you." He flicked one, then the other. The second time, it sparkled weakly. "Not the best match."

"Better than nothing," Hermione retorted. "We need to get out of here."

"Charging over an open field towards concealed positions is discouraged in the military," Sirius told her. "Since the Great War, to be exact."

"I don't think we will have to resort to that," Dumbledore pointed out.

"If they're out of range of our spells, we're out of range of their spells," wizarding Luna said. "We can just disillusion ourselves and fly away on brooms."

"And those who can't fly can get shrunk and slip into our pockets," Luna added.

"They'll have people in the air. That's the obvious escape route," Hermione retorted. "We're not Harry; I don't think we can easily outfly them."

Disillusioned wizards on brooms… perfect for intercepting them. Ron pressed his lips together.

"We can't stay here either - sooner or later, they'll attack. Or just bring the house down on our heads," Sirius pointed out.

"We can tunnel out of here," Hermione said. "We just…"

An explosion shook the whole house before she could explain her plan. Ron heard someone shriek while he grabbed Hermione and pushed her to the floor. "Down!"

She pushed him off of her. "Protego!"

Another explosion blew a hole into the door - no, it actually blew the door away, Ron realised. He snapped off a burst through the dust obscuring it.

"We need to take cover in the basement!" Dumbledore sounded urgent - more urgent than Ron had heard him sound before.

That wasn't a good sign. "Go!" Ron yelled. "I'll cover us!" He fired another burst through the hole as the dust settled.

Then Sirius's machine gun opened up, followed by more shots from their assault rifles. Harry and Ginny. Ron glanced over to the side. Luna, too. Damn. If one of those blasting curses went off inside the room, they would all be killed!

"Get into the basement!" Ron yelled - Dumbledore and Rosengarten were already going downstairs.

"Firing smoke!" Harry announced, followed by the sound of his grenade launcher firing.

"That won't last very long," Sirius commented. "And it's hiding them from us as well."

"They're disillusioned anyway," wizarding Luna pointed out.

Another grenade went off. Ron could see two thick clouds of smoke starting to obscure most of the yard. That would buy them a little time - but not much.

Another explosion struck the roof. "They're above us!" Harry yelled.

They had expected that, hadn't they? Ron pulled out a smoke grenade of his own and lobbed it right outside the door. That should obscure at least part of the house.

"Downstairs, everyone!" Hermione was pointing her wand at the ceiling, mumbling something.

The house shook again, two explosions. And part of the ceiling in the kitchen collapsed.

"Everyone downstairs!" Ron yelled.

"No," Dumbledore interrupted him - the man was standing on the stairs. "The basement is protected against tunnelling. It appears that the Québecois used sappers in the war."

Damn it. They would have to risk shrinking and fleeing on a broom… Ron clenched his teeth. Perhaps someone could stay behind, draw attention by shooting tracer bullets... He blinked. Tracers.

"Hermione! Luna! Conjure bats and make them glow!"

"Bats?" Wizarding Luna sounded confused.

Hermione, who had just repaired the hole in the kitchen ceiling, was quicker on the uptake. "Oh, yes. Bats! Glowing bats!"

Ron fired another burst, mostly to keep himself busy, when something hit the floor next to him. He jerked, then noticed that it was a button. A moment later, it turned into a dozen buttons. And then the buttons turned into bats. Which started to glow in all sorts of neon colours.

That had to be wizarding Luna's work.

Ron moved towards the hole in the wall, changing his magazine as the cloud of psychedelic bats rushed out of the house and up into the night sky.

"Disillusion me!" Ron yelled.

"Me too!" Harry added.

"Going left!" Ron felt the familiar sensation of fading away a moment later. He smiled at Hermione, then dashed outside through the smoke, rolling over his shoulder a few times to the left of the door until he reached the corner of the house and got up again.

Above him, the glowing bats had split up, circling around half a dozen spots in the sky. Moving spots in the sky. Spells were flashing, and a few bats must have died already. And most of the roof was caved in or blown away - only Hermione and wizarding Lunas's spells kept the house standing.

Time for payback. Ron aimed at the centre of one such 'flock' of bats and started shooting. Was that a flash? He couldn't tell and kept shooting. A few seconds later, the bats were diving, and something hit the ground twenty yards from Ron. Something invisible.

Ron put a few more rounds into the fallen wizard, then changed position, already looking for his next target. Another group of bats was diving - Harry must have caught a wizard as well. That left… about six.

Then the earth blew up behind him, and he was thrown to the ground. A moment later, he noticed that his head hurt - he was bleeding. Something had hit him. He clenched his teeth and rolled on to his back. More explosions followed. Someone must have realised what was happening. But the bats were still following the wizards in the sky.

Ron emptied his magazine into the closest invisible wizard, switched it for a full one and emptied that as well until that particular cloud of bats started to dive. That wizard, too, got a few more bursts once they hit the ground before they turned visible. And dead.

Next… Two left. Hadn't there been four? He blinked, then groaned. His head was hurting. And he was still bleeding. Damn.

The next explosion was so close, he felt the ground beneath his back buck and dirt and rocks that had been thrown up in the air landed on him. He brushed and shook them off - no, no shaking, that hurt like a bitch.

He rolled on to his stomach, then got up, or tried to. His legs wobbled. Damn. And there were still Blasting Curses raining down on him and his friends. What could he do?

More lights lit up the sky - tracers, Ron recognised the effect. But so many… that was the machine gun.

This time, one of the wizards became visible as his charm died with him before he hit the ground. And the last wizard turned tail and ran. Or flew away.

Or tried to - machine gun fire was faster than a broom. Despite his ears ringing from the last explosion, Ron could hear the sound of a body hitting a tree trunk on the floor. And breaking.

He just had trouble seeing anything, what with the blood in his face. He lifted his arm and rubbed at it, smearing it over his face but clearing his eyes - mostly. It didn't matter anyway; he already had red hair. Now to get up before more curses flew his way - wouldn't the thugs have people on the ground as well? You needed boots on the ground, didn't you?

He got up - or tried to. He had to go down on one knee to avoid falling down - his sense of balance was… wasn't. Damn. He shook his head, then winced at the pain that caused.

"Ron?"

Hermione? He looked round. There she was, near the house…

"Ron! You're wounded!"

"Just a scratch," he managed to say.

"Episkey!"

He didn't feel much better. Had she miscast? What happened with a miscast healing spell?

"Come! We need to leave!"

She pulled a broom out, straddled it and tugged on his arm. "Mount up behind me!"

It took him two attempts before he managed to sit behind her, his face on her shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist. This was bad - he'd get blood on her clothes.

Then they were off, and he felt ill. This was… this was… Before he could say or do anything, he felt as if he was being stuffed into a metal pipe and out the other side.

He was vomiting on the floor before he realised that he was in their hotel room. And he didn't care.

"Ron! Were you poisoned?"

He blinked. Had he been poisoned? He didn't think so.

"He's got a severe concussion."

"Mr Rosengarten?"

"It's quite a common condition among some of my patients. Former patients," the old man explained. "This should help."

Something Latin followed that Ron didn't catch, and then he blinked. The pain had been reduced to a dull ache. Less debilitating than a hangover. "Wow… thank you," he said.

"I could've done better with my own wand."

"It's great anyway." Ron didn't lie - concussions were nothing to sneeze at. The human brain could only take so much, after all.

"Indeed. And we'll ensure you'll get a matched wand, Mr Rosengarten," Dumbledore spoke up. "Although I think that we should relocate downstairs - it's a bit crowded."

Luna spoke up: "Did you check Mr Rosengarten for spells? This might've been a ploy to find our base."

"There were no such charms on him," wizarding Luna replied.

"Then let's go."

Ron gripped the railing tightly on the stairs. If he lost his balance now… But he didn't and reached the trunk basement, as Luna called it, safely. He still sighed with relief as he sank into one of the comfortable armchairs inside the tent. Hermione joined him and wrapped her arm around his waist - after cleaning the blood off his clothes.

"We made it!" Luna announced.

"Barely," Harry replied.

"Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing," Sirius commented.

"It was a near thing, though," Hermione pointed out. "If they had been a bit quicker, or a bit more skilled…"

She didn't have to finish the thought. "Or a little luckier," Ron said.

"But they weren't," Dumbledore said. He turned to Mr Rosengarten. "I apologise again. If we hadn't visited you, this wouldn't have happened."

"It was my own fault for trusting the wrong sort of people," Rosengarten replied, shaking his head. "I underestimated Martin's greed and overestimated his and his men's loyalty."

Dumbledore nodded with a sympathetic expression. "Such betrayals are the worst. I've suffered my share of them." The Cambridge Five came to mind. Ron wondered if Dumbledore had known them. "Do you need to return to your apartment? I think Mr Martin's people suffered enough losses to discourage another attack, though we should still be careful."

"There are a few trinkets, but they're not worth the risk," Rosengarten replied.

"Are you certain? Memories are often priceless."

"And some memories are best left behind."

"As you wish," Dumbledore told him with a nod. "There's no need to delay our departure, then."

"There's one thing we need to discuss, though," Rosengarten said. He looked round, letting his gaze rest on each of them in turn for a few seconds. "Most of you are squibs, aren't you?"

Of course the man would've realised that they weren't wizards after seeing them fight! Ron grimaced

Dumbledore, though, smiled. "That depends on your definition of 'squib', I believe."

Rosengarten narrowed his eyes at him. "The definition of 'squib' is universally accepted as someone with at least one magical parent, but who is unable to use magic themselves."

"Ah, but anyone can use magic like brooms and potions, or other enchanted items, can't they?" Dumbledore retorted, inclining his head slightly.

Rosengarten very obviously wasn't amused by his sophistry. "In this case, using magic means casting spells."

"So it does."

"And how do you define a squib?"

"Oh, I don't. But I could imagine that some might define squibs as non-magical members of a magical family."

"Are you such a person?" Rosengarten asked.

"That depends on your definition of family," Dumbledore replied. Before Rosengarten could snap at him, he held up his hand. "But we should discuss this further once we've put a bit more distance between the Free Republic and ourselves." He turned to Hermione. "Doctor?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll go book a flight." She, in turn, looked at Luna. "Luna?"

"Yes?" Both Lunas looked up. Then wizarding Luna blinked. "Oh, you meant Luna."

"Yes. Would you mind letting her take your seat this time?"

Wizarding Luna pouted. "Aw… I was looking forward to the flight back."

"There'll be other opportunities," Dumbledore cut in. "But I think Luna deserves a turn this time."

"Alright." Wizarding Luna was still pouting, though.

But they needed at least one witch with them for the flight, just in case Rosengarten lost his temper. And Luna and Hemione were the only ones with valid passports.

Hermione stepped up to Ron, stopping a foot away and looking at him without saying a word.

He smiled at her. "We'll be fine."

That made her frown. "You weren't fine. We'll have to talk about that."

"Alright." He nodded. With Ron and the others being stuck inside her trunk for the trip back to Britain, they wouldn't be able to have that talk for about a day, perhaps longer. That should help, or so he hoped.

Then they kissed for quite a while.

* * *

**East Coast Airspace, United States of America, Wizarding World, January 8th, 2006**

"She's Hermione Granger." Rosengarten had his new wand in hand as he made the announcement in the 'living room' of the tent, Ron noted. With the exception of Harry and Ginny, who were still in their room and unlikely to leave for an hour or so, everyone was present.

"Yes," Dumbledore, sitting in his favourite armchair, confirmed. "An excellent deduction, if I do say so myself."

"There aren't many British witches her age named Hermione."

"Foiled by her unique name." Wizarding Luna shook her head. "Who would have expected that?"

"Mr Dumbledore expected it, I believe," Rosengarten replied with a thin smile.

"I didn't think you'd have missed the news of her return," the old spymaster admitted.

"I didn't miss the 'Christmas miracle', as the Prophet called it." Rosengarten scoffed. "I even tried to think of possible curses that would block her memory for seven years."

"Apart from the usual suspects," wizarding Luna added.

"Yes." Rosengarten frowned at her. "But now, after the recent events, I wonder if she had really lost her memories."

"There's a little more to her story," Ron cut in. "But you'll have to wait for that until we've arrived." He wouldn't let Dumbledore reveal Hermione's secrets.

"You're the muggle Weasley. Or are you a squib? A twin of the famous Ron Weasley, hidden away to spare the family the embarrassment?"

Ron chuckled loudly at that, even though the sentiment stung. "You don't know my family. Not at all. I wasn't hidden - they didn't know of me."

The old Healer didn't seem to believe him. "It smacks of a conspiracy. The fake identities, the cloak and dagger approach, the disguises... and the use of muggle weapons."

"They're quite effective," Ron told him. He doubted that they would have hit many of their enemies with spells. Not at that distance.

"Very effective," Sirius added.

"The rate of fire of modern firearms provides a sizable advantage when fighting flying enemies, especially at longer ranges," Dumbledore said.

"Maine used muggle firearms in the war as well," Rosengarten replied. "They weren't very effective."

"They lacked training, then," Sirius said. "Untrained soldiers are barely more than targets."

"And you have the training."

"And the experience." Sirius grinned. "Hard-earned experience, mind you."

"Ah." Rosengarten stared at him for a moment, then turned towards Dumbledore. "This is your doing, isn't it? You formed a group, recruited squibs, possibly muggles too, and a witch or two."

The old spymaster smiled. "From a certain point of view, one could say that. Although I think few of our friends here would agree with the assumption that I recruited them."

Ron snorted at that. He wouldn't call it recruiting, either. More like manipulating.

"But they follow you. You're bankrolling this, right?" Rosengarten asked.

"Yes."

"And you need a Healer but cannot hire one openly - not in Wizarding Britain." The old man scoffed. "So you decided to hire me. How did you track me down?"

Track him down? Oh. The Healer had a history or reputation in Britain.

"We didn't," Dumbledore said, spreading his hands. "We stumbled upon you by chance."

Rosengarten's scoff showed that he didn't believe the spymaster. Hell, Ron had some doubts himself, even though he knew Dumbledore hadn't known about the Healer's past - whatever it was.

"Nevertheless, it's the truth," Dumbledore went on. "A fortuitous coincidence, nothing more. Although one that I capitalised upon, I admit."

"And what are your goals? Are you planning an insurrection?" The old Healer stared at him. "A radical squib rights group? Or do you need deniable assets to export the British muggleborn movement to other countries?"

"None of the above." Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm afraid your guesses are wrong. I'm not planning to start a war or a political movement, not in Britain nor anywhere else."

"Really. And yet, you cannot go to the Healers at St Mungo's."

"Indeed. There are political as well as legal reasons why I cannot take advantage of Wizarding Britain's Health Service."

"Unfair ones," wizarding Luna said, nodding.

Rosengarten seemed to ignore her and kept staring at Dumbledore. "You claimed that what you wanted from me wasn't illegal."

"It isn't - not where we're going." Dumbledore was enjoying his half-truths and lies by omission far too much, in Ron's opinion.

Rosengarten scoffed again. "I guess we'll see."

He didn't sound resigned, as far as Ron's could tell. More defiant. Or threatening. Rosengarten had just lost his home, had been betrayed by someone he thought was a friend - possibly - and was now surrounded by strangers led by an old spymaster who delighted in mincing words. That wasn't a good place to be. Ron cleared his throat. "Word games aside, we can't tell you the truth right now, but it's not what you're imagining. As we told you, we need an experienced Healer to treat a few patients, nothing more."

"And it's not illegal at our destination," wizarding Luna added with a beaming smile.

"Just politically troublesome?" Rosengarten replied.

"You could say that," Dumbledore replied. "I also would like to apologise for taking too much delight in playing word games, as Mr Weasley put it. A lingering déformation professionnelle, you understand."

"And what is your profession?"

"I'm a retired entrepreneur, but once upon a time, I was a spy."

"A spy." Rosengarten gripped his wands more tightly, Ron noticed. "That figures."

"Why, thank you!" Dumbledore beamed at him as if he had been complimented.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 9th, 2006**

Ron hugged Hermione as soon as he got out of the trunk - after checking for enemies, of course. He had missed her. Especially with Harry and Ginny spending most of the flight in bed. Not that Ron was jealous.

"What is that?" he heard behind him - Rosengarten. The old man had spent almost the entire trip in his room, recovering from his kidnapping - though the verbal fencing with Dumbledore probably had been a reason for his seclusion as well.

"That's a portal to another world," Hermione told him.

"What? Another world?" Rosengarten made a sound that was a mixture of laughing and scoffing.

"Indeed." Dumbledore climbed out of the trunk. "A portal created by combining magic and quantum physics, linking two worlds, one magical and one mundane, but apart from that, very, very similar worlds."

Ron saw Hermione frown, even scowl, at the old man stealing her thunder, so to speak.

"Are you claiming that this portal leads to a world without magic?" Rosengarten laughed.

"Oh, no - this portal leads to the magical world. Your world, Mr Rosengarten," Dumbledore said. "We are already in a mundane world. My world."

"What?"

The old spymaster bowed his head. "I'm Albus Dumbledore - the muggle counterpart of the famous wizard." He gestured towards Hermione and wizarding Luna. "Apart from Dr Granger and Miss Lovegood, everyone here is a muggle from this world."

"You're mad," Rosengarten replied, shaking his head. Not even the sight of the Lunas pulling their disguises off seemed to make him falter.

"He is mad - but not in the way you think."

Ron turned at the interruption - it seemed Grindelwald had grown impatient.

"Meister Grindelwald!" Rosengarten gasped - and raised his wand.

"Meister?" Grindelwald scoffed. "What a peculiar title."

"So you were one of the other Grindelwald's soldiers. I suspected, but I wasn't certain," Dumbledore said in a calm tone - as if his partner weren't staring down a wand.

"He's not your Grindelwald!" Hermione snapped. She had her wand aimed at Rosengarten. "He's a muggle!"

Ron put a hand on his pistol. Not that shooting the Healer would do any good after all the trouble they had had recruiting him. What a mess.

"Ha!" Rosengarten didn't take his eyes off Grindelwald. "I know you."

"Indeed, Gellert is a muggle - same as I am, as I already told you," Dumbledore said. He was even smiling. "And we can prove it."

* * *

"_Snape!"_

_The shout made her stop running. It had come from below - the ground floor, probably. Harry and Ron had stopped as well - then rushed to the stairs ahead. She followed them, crouching to peer over the railing._

_Down below, on the ground floor, as expected, stood Snape. He was obviously facing someone, but she couldn't see whom - the moving stairs were in the way._

"_Must be Death Eaters," Ron whispered next to her._

"_Yes," Harry agreed. _

_Or Order members who didn't know about Snape being a spy. Should they step in? But they had a mission. The most important mission of the war._

_Snape suddenly flicked his wand up, and someone screamed. Then spells started flying. She saw Snape casting another spell - another scream followed - before he ducked behind a pillar as two curses flew past him - from different directions. He was caught in a crossfire! He whirled and sent a curse back at the enemy on the left - she still couldn't see any of his opponents, but another scream followed. What kind of curse was he using?_

"_We need to help him," she whispered. If they attacked from above…_

"_Alright, let's…"_

_But before Harry could lay out a plan of attack, the pillar in front of Snape shattered, and the man was thrown back, landing in a heap on the floor. Then another spell hit him, and he screamed - the Torture Curse, Hermione realised with a gasp._

_A volley of various curses followed - there had to be at least half a dozen Death Eaters down there! - and Snape's screams cut off as he was blasted back another yard._

_The body that rolled over the floor didn't look like their teacher any more. Or like a human._

"_No…" she whispered._

"_Bloody hell," Ron chimed in. _

"_We need to go."_

_She looked at Harry._

"_We need to destroy the last Horcrux," he said._

_She hated herself for it, but she agreed. They couldn't help Snape any more, anyway._

_But they could avenge him. Him and all the other victims of Voldemort and his Death Eaters._


	51. Chapter 51: The Negotiation

As usual, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 51: The Negotiation**

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 9th, 2006**

"You can prove that you're a muggle?" Rosengarten sounded rather sceptical. He kept his wand trained on Grindelwald as he quickly looked round the portal room.

"We can prove that this world isn't your world, Mr Rosengarten," Dumbledore said. "You are familiar with Diagon Alley and Hogwarts, aren't you?"

"Yes," the Healer pressed out.

"A visit to both locations should suffice to prove our claims, then," the old spymaster replied, tilting his head with a smile.

"If there's no magic in this world, how have you managed to create a portal using magic?" Rosengarten didn't seem like he would be willing to concede any time soon.

"We didn't - Dr Granger did," Dumbledore said.

"I was transported to this world by accident," Hermione explained. "It took me seven years to create a way back combining magic and quantum physics."

"Really."

"Yes, really," Hermione told him through clenched teeth. "And I can show you that Diagon Alley, Hogwarts and Hogsmeade do not exist here. Nor any other magical locations like the Ministry - though you might not be familiar with the Ministry."

The Healer didn't answer, but the way his mouth twisted into a frown told Ron that Hermione wasn't far off the mark.

"So… shall we take a quick trip to London, and then to Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked. "Your arm must be growing tired."

Rosengarten glared at him for a moment, then slowly lowered his wand. "Alright."

"Your hand, please," Hermione said, reaching out to him.

Ron stepped over to her. She looked at him, then reached out to him as well.

A few Apparitions followed - mostly forests - until they arrived in a park. Hyde Park, Ron realised as he looked round. "I don't think we were noticed," he said.

"There shouldn't be any cameras covering this area," she replied. "Let's go to where Diagon Alley should be. Can you apparate there?"

"It's been decades since I was last there," Rosengarten told her.

"We can try it later with Hogwarts, then," Hermione said, and Ron understood that she was using the opportunity to find out if wizards could apparate to locations they only knew from their own world.

Perhaps Dumbledore had rubbed off on her.

* * *

**Leadenhall Market, City of London, London, ****January 9th, 2006**

"It's not here."

Rosengarten shook his head as he stared at the perfectly mundane street in Leadenhall Market.

"We told you so," Hermione said.

"It's a muggle street. Full of muggles. With muggle shops," Ron added after paying the cab driver's fare.

Both Hermione and Rosengarten glared at him for that, but the Healer had stopped mumbling and drawing attention from the passers-by. "So… Hogwarts now?" Ron asked.

"Not yet. I want to see the Leaky Cauldron."

Well, he didn't. There was no Leaky Cauldron where it would've been. No Knockturn Alley, either. But it took Rosengarten twenty minutes to accept that. And Ron caught him casting a few spells on himself - probably to check for curses.

"Alright. Let's go to Hogwarts." Rosengarten nodded.

"I'll apparate us to Edinburgh," Hermione told him. "You can attempt to reach the school from there."

Two Apparitions later - Ron still wasn't used to them, but he seemed to be handling them a little better - they were in Edinburgh.

"We're in Edinburgh," Hermione announced.

Rosengarten nodded and took a deep breath, then raised his wand.

And nothing happened.

He closed his eyes, apparently trying again. He didn't disappear this time, either.

"So you cannot apparate to a location you haven't visited before," Hermione said. "Even if you know the location's counterpart in our world very well." She nodded and grabbed their hands again.

They appeared on top of the hill, next to the ruins of the castle. Rosengarten gasped again, his eyes darting around. "This is… this isn't Hogwarts."

"No," Hermione told him. "Just a small castle destroyed during a Scottish clan feud." She sounded very sympathetic.

The Healer slowly nodded, then turned away. A moment later, he raised his hand to his face.

Ron glanced at Hermione, who shook her head. So he remained where he was, waiting for Rosengarten to recover his composure.

He didn't want to see a grown man cry, anyway.

After a little while, Rosengarten straightened, then turned. "You could've removed Diagon Alley, but Hogwarts? No."

Hermione nodded, though Ron couldn't help feeling that she was a bit reluctant to agree. "Let's return to the portal room, then," she said. "You've got two patients to examine and treat."

"So it seems, yes." Rosengarten nodded with a sigh. "I might need some supplies, though - Martin's men didn't let me pack what I had planned to bring with me."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Hermione replied. "We can fetch the materials and ingredients from our world."

Rosengarten snorted. "'Our world'... it will take some time to get used to that."

Not that he would need to get used to it, what with the plan to obliviate him - but bringing up that titbit right now would've been gauche.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 9th, 2006**

The others were still in the portal room when they returned. Dumbledore was smiling but had the grace not to look triumphant. Even Grindelwald didn't look as grumpy as usual, though he still glared at Rosengarten.

Sirius, though, was the one to speak up: "There you are! We expected you earlier."

Hermione glared at the older man. "Then it was your fault for miscalculating."

"What?" Sirius acted as if he were shocked.

As Harry frowned at his godfather, Dumbledore cleared his throat and interrupted Sirius. "I take it that things have been cleared up."

"Yes," Rosengarten said. "You two are my patients, I presume."

"Just so. We've already each taken Ricklestorf's Restoration Potion, but at our age, the body can always use more care and healing." Dumbledore nodded.

"What about MI6?" Ron asked.

"Our quarters are secure," Grindelwald replied. "They mostly confine their activities to keeping track of everyone who comes and goes through the door. But we don't tolerate surveillance devices inside private quarters."

Ron doubted that the policy was applied to their own surveillance devices, but it wasn't as if Ron and his friends had much of a choice. On the other hand, Luna didn't seem to be bothered about it, either - and she generally took a dim view of any violation of privacy. Except when she was trying to 'expose corruption', as she called it. They'd have to talk to her and her counterpart later. "Good. We can retire to our rooms, then?"

"By all means," Dumbledore told them. "We've had a rather exhausting trip, after all."

Ginny snorted in a most unladylike manner that would have had Mum going off at her, but Ron ignored his sister. What she got up to with his best friend was none of his business. He looked at Hermione instead, who nodded at him. "Yes, let's head to bed." It was getting a little hot in his winter clothes.

"A good idea," Dumbledore agreed. "I think an extensive examination is best done when one is well-rested and fed. We've taken the liberty of having quarters prepared for you, Mr Rosengarten."

"That was very thoughtful," the Healer replied with a hint of sarcasm.

"You're too kind." Dumbledore beamed at him while Grindelwald rolled his eyes and snorted.

But they finally left the portal room and headed to their quarters. "Morning run at the usual time," Harry told them before they split up, which made Sirius groan, but everyone ignored him.

They all knew that was just a cover for having a private talk, after all.

Once in their room, Hermione sighed and laid down on the bed on her back, staring at the ceiling. "What's your impression of Mr Rosengarten?" she asked.

Ron removed his shoes and jacket and sat down on the bed. "He didn't really believe us until the ruins. Or, rather, until then he still had some hope left."

"Do you think he'll stick to the deal?"

He took a deep breath. "Probably." After a moment, he added: "It's not as if he has much left. He can't go home again. And he's apparently a wanted man in Europe."

"I doubt anyone is still hunting the rank and file of Grindelwald's army," she retorted. "And he wasn't one of the leaders."

"Just because they aren't actively hunting him doesn't mean they'll overlook him should they spot him," Ron pointed out. "And Dumbledore might be angling to hire him permanently. And if he has one wizard on his payroll, he'll need a few more so they keep each other in check." He glanced at her.

"He hasn't mentioned anything to me," she replied.

"He probably wanted to wait until you've completed your deal with him."

"Which I just did." Hermione sighed.

"There's also the question of what to do with the portal." Ron tried to act as casually as he could manage. "The Fidelius Charm is one thing, and it needs to be protected, but… what are you planning to _do _with it?"

"I don't know yet. Not exactly," she replied after a moment. "It seems a little, well, I don't want to sound arrogant, but just serving to connect our two worlds seems a little… selfish."

He didn't think 'selfish' was the first word she had thought of. "And a little bit of a waste," he commented.

The way she flinched just a little told him what she had been thinking. "You'll have to come to an arrangement with Dumbledore, then."

"I know. And I need to find a way to rein in the Lunas. And a way to get the Ministry to reform Azkaban."

Those were some tall orders. But they had managed to deal with worse.

"At least the world's a little safer since wizards can't just sneak through the portal and then apparate away," he said.

"That will only prevent the most blatant intrusions," she pointed out. "If someone can sneak through the portal, they will have a good chance of sneaking out of the laboratory."

He nodded. And anyone sneaking in likely would have inside help, anyway. Which was another can of worms. "The sooner you can cast the Fidelius Charm, the better."

She frowned in response. "It's a difficult task. There's a reason it was rarely used in the war - few could cast it. Although it's not just the difficulty of casting the spells, but also the difficulty of wording the secret to be protected."

"You'll figure it out," he told her with honest confidence.

That didn't cheer her up, though - she was looking rather grim as she nodded. "I have to."

"We can figure it out tomorrow." He pulled off his shirt as if it were a sweater, not bothering to undo the buttons.

After a moment, she nodded.

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 10th, 2006**

"Couldn't we… you know… just use… magic? For… privacy?"

Sirius panted as he leaned against the closest tree, his breath forming a small cloud in the cold morning air.

"Yes," Hermione replied. She was looking a little winded herself, Ron saw.

"So… why are we out here? Freezing our arses off?" Sirius asked.

"It's tradition," Harry told him, stretching. A little way behind him, the Lunas were doing similar exercises.

"And you always tell us how important traditions are," Ginny added with a grin - she was running in place just to rub in how much fitter she was, of course.

"What? When did I ever say that?"

"Whenever you want the last piece of pizza," Harry replied. "Besides, exercise is good for you. Especially at your age."

Sirius scoffed. "Bah. I'm rich - I'll hire Rosengarten to make me fit. Once he's done with Dumbledore and Grindelwald."

"That's not exactly how it works," Hermione corrected him.

"What? You can shrink people, fly on brooms and turn lead into gold, and you are trying to tell me that you don't have a way to become fit without exercising?"

"Self-transfiguration is notoriously risky," she replied. "And most other spells would only be cosmetic in nature, anyway."

"You said 'most'. That means there are some spells that aren't just cosmetic!"

"I don't think that switching your legs for those of a horse would work out well for you."

The older man blinked, gaping at her. "You're having me on!"

Hermione tilted her head and grinned. "They say that's how centaurs were created."

"That's…" Sirius shook his head.

"In your case, we'd probably have to use an ass, not a horse," Harry told him. "On the other hand, you could be the first member of the Blues and Royals who is his own horse…"

"Harry!"

As the group had a laugh, Ron glanced at Hermione. "Is that true?" he whispered.

"About the centaurs? Probably not. Most scholars assume they were created using potions and rituals." She shrugged. "But it is very difficult and dangerous to modify your body with magic once you're changing more than your appearance."

Harry clapped his hands, preventing Ron from asking for more details. "So… let's talk about the real reason we came out here." He turned to look at Hermione. "What now?"

Ron saw Hermione tense for a moment as she was put on the spot. Then she took a deep breath and straightened. "Once Mr Rosengarten has finished treating Mr Dumbledore and Mr Grindelwald, I've fulfilled my part of the deal."

"Then it's time to renegotiate!" Wizarding Luna smiled. "And get a better deal."

"In a manner of speaking." Hermione smiled as well, but her smile quickly faded. "The portal needs protection from the Russians, and anyone else who might have figured out what it is."

"Or thinks that we're working on space-bending technology," Ron said. "I doubt that the government managed to keep that information secret."

"They didn't," Luna told them. "Rumours about this are spreading on the Net. The Shadow Government is trying to suppress and discredit the information, though - both Russians and British agents are at the forefront of that effort, which is telling." She nodded with a very serious expression.

"And there's no telling what they'll do once you hide the portal from them," wizarding Luna added, matching Luna's expression.

"Bah." Sirius scoffed. "Wait a few weeks or months, and it'll be just another urban legend."

"I doubt that the government or MI6 will forget about us so easily," Harry retorted. "They've invested too much in this."

"And lost too many people," Ron agreed with a nod.

"Her Majesty's Government generally doesn't mind losing employees, as long as their goals are met." Sirius shook his head.

"But without working space-folding technology, their goals won't have been met," Harry pointed out.

"And the more people who already know the secret that the Fidelius Charm will be hiding, the more difficult it is to cast it," Hermione said. "Hiding the portal is one thing, hiding the entire site or even the entire history of this affair, quite another."

"Oh, yes. Otherwise, you could do things like making everyone forget where the bathrooms in Hogwarts are." Wizarding Luna nodded in a sage manner. "That would have been a very funny prank, of course. Unless you were a student at Hogwarts."

"So… making Putin forget about us, not just about the portal or project, won't work?" Ron was pretty sure he knew the answer even as he asked.

"No. Too many people are aware of the attacks on us." Hermione confirmed his assumption.

"That's logical," Luna said. "We made national and international news. That sort of information can't be suppressed any more. That won't keep government spin doctors from trying to control it, of course."

"I've found that magic isn't always logical," Hermione told her. "But in this case, you're essentially correct."

"So what do we do about Putin?"

"We have to deal with him personally," Hermione said. "That's the only way to make him leave us alone."

"Wipe his memory?" Sirius asked.

"I'd prefer to change his memory and use more conventional disinformation to make him abandon his plans for us. Perhaps fake my death," Hermione said, "to make it appear that my research died with me."

It was a good plan, Ron had to admit - but it would also mean that she wouldn't be able to go out in public in his world without a disguise. Hell, since they were planning to fool the Russian secret service, they wouldn't be able to publicly date unless Ron was also in disguise, or the FIS might still make the connection.

"You're suggesting kidnapping the Russian president and alter his memory," Harry said in a rather flat voice.

"He's a muggle, isn't he? He doesn't have magical bodyguards, does he?" wizarding Luna cut in. "We should be fine!"

Ron winced. "They think we can teleport - or, at least, appear out of thin air in a secure room. I'd be very surprised if the Russians hadn't already installed countermeasures against invisible or teleporting intruders."

"Pressure plates on the ground. Radar. Thermographic and air pressure sensors," Luna said. "If you're a bit creative, you can protect yourself even against magical intruders. If you have the KGB at your beck and call, of course," she added. "The common people won't have the resources to implement the various countermeasures."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "But Putin does have them. You won't be able to fly up to the Kremlin, knock on his window and cast a spell when he opens it."

"I wasn't planning to," Hermione retorted, a little more sharply than necessary, in Ron's opinion. "But no location is impenetrable. Now that I have a wand again, I'm not as limited as I was, either."

"And I'll help, too!" wizarding Luna chimed in. "And we can ask Harry and Ron for help if we need more help."

Ron didn't frown. Having two experienced wizards who were also Hermione's best friends help against Putin would be a very good thing. It might save lives.

But he really didn't like the thought of his counterpart being involved.

"Even with their help, it's still a handful of people against a superpower," Harry said. "Those aren't good odds."

"And Harry would know about that," Sirius added. "Underestimate the Russians at your own peril."

Hadn't he been the one to suggest mindwiping Putin? Ron snorted. But the older man was correct - even with magic, this would be very difficult, and horribly dangerous.

"We won't underestimate them," Hermione said.

"And none of us speaks Russian," Harry went on. "We won't be able to pass as locals. And we have no idea about the layout and defences of the Kremlin - other than that they'll be confusing and competent."

"I'm hopeful that Mr Dumbledore will be able to help with these obstacles," Hermione told him.

Ron chuckled - going after the president of Russia? A former KGB officer? Dumbledore would probably jump at the chance to help with this plan. Or take it over.

"He's not perfect," Harry pointed out, frowning heavily.

"But he's very experienced in this sort of clandestine business," Luna said.

"And he has assets in Russia," Hermione added.

"That's no longer certain - Putin might have carried out a mole hunt," Sirius said.

"We'll have a more detailed overview of what help he can give us once we discuss things with him," Hermione told Harry.

"And what his price is," Ron added, which earned him a glare. But he met her eyes without flinching or feeling guilty - he knew Dumbledore. _They _knew him. The old man would never let an opportunity to gain another favour or more influence pass.

* * *

"My word, Mr Rosengarten, you are a miracle worker! I haven't felt better in fifty years!" Dumbledore, positively beaming, raised his glass in a toast. "To good health and better friendships!"

Ron followed suit, raising his own glass - or flute, as Hermione called it. The champagne was as good as Ginny had claimed. Given the exorbitant price for a bottle, even bought directly from the vineyard, without a restaurant's markup, much less a bar's, it better be excellent, of course.

The whole dinner was an example of, well, not excess, but expensive tastes - apart from the venue; the lounge of their quarters wasn't a high-class restaurant. But the food… champagne, foie gras and caviar as hors-d'oeuvres, black truffle soup, entrecôte Café de Paris, but apparently with kobe beef… Dumbledore had gone all-out to celebrate his and Grindelwald's newfound health. And to celebrate French cuisine, of course.

"Thank you, Mr Dumbledore," Rosengarten replied after taking a sip from his own glass.

"Please call me Albus." Dumbledore's smile managed to grow a little more.

"Just do it," Grindelwald chimed in. "He won't let up until you do, so you might as well save you the bother and give in right away." The old man was smiling himself, which was both unusual and a little disturbing. Just a little.

"Albus, then." Rosengarten nodded.

"Abraham." Dumbledore beamed, then glanced at Grindelwald with a slight frown.

The other man sighed. "Please call me Gellert."

"Gellert, please call me Abraham."

If Ron didn't know the men, it would have been a touching and wholesome scene. And even so, the sheer joy Dumbledore was feeling was obvious. Almost eclipsing his reaction after he had taken the restoration potion. Which really should be named the 'potion of youth'.

"We are in your debt, Abraham."

"Figuratively," Grindelwald interjected. "The agreed-upon money has been paid, after all."

Dumbledore nodded. "The full sum, to compensate you for the gold those ruffians took from you." That was addressed to Ron and his friends, not to Rosengarten, who would already be aware of that.

"And I'm very grateful for your generosity," Rosengarten replied. "It will enable me to rebuild my life."

Dumbledore's smile twitched a little, but it was so brief, Ron wasn't sure if he'd imagined it. "Speaking of which - did you make any plans yet?"

"Not yet. Portland, the entirety of the Free Republic, is closed to me now," Rosengarten replied. "As is Britain and most of Europe."

Dumbledore nodded but didn't comment.

"And those countries I would be able to visit have problems of their own."

"Like Scandinavia's constant feuding," Hermione said.

"Precisely." The Healer nodded at her. "And I would prefer to live in a country where the locals speak English."

"Perfectly understandable," Dumbledore commented, nodding his head. "Though that does limit your options somewhat."

"The East Coast doesn't feud as much as the Scandinavians do," Rosengarten agreed, "but that's only because they are regularly at war with each other."

"On the other hand, as a Healer, your services will be in demand in such a location," Dumbledore said. "You will be able to name your price - within reason, of course."

"Or I might get press-ganged into the forces of the enclave." Rosengarten took a bite from his entrecôte.

"That doesn't seem to leave you many choices. The magical versions of the English-speaking Caribbean nations have their own drawbacks, if I recall Dr Granger's lessons correctly."

Voodoo, pirates and occasional involvement in said East Coast wars, Ron thought.

"You've done your homework," Rosengarten told Dumbledore. "For completeness's sake, New Zealand is too far away and too close to Australia."

The old spymaster inclined his head with a wry grin.

"So make your pitch." Rosengarten's smile twisted a little. "You've been building up to it the whole evening, haven't you?"

Dumbledore's grin showed not even a hint of embarrassment. "Caught in the act. Indeed, I would make a case for staying here instead of trying to rebuild your life in the other world. Not only will your past not haunt you here, but you will have the best of two worlds - literally."

"I would be cut off from my own world."

"No more than you were before - and with our support, being able to visit Wizarding Britain shouldn't be much of a problem," Dumbledore retorted.

"Really?" Rosengarten looked doubtful. "Miss Granger might be a national heroine, but that's not enough to influence politics."

"I wouldn't want to appear cynical, but we have access to one of the most efficient tools in politics: wealth." Dumbledore spread his hands. "I wouldn't dare suggest that the current Ministry is corrupt," he said with a nod at Hermione, "but the fact that they have prioritised their economy over reforming Azkaban clearly shows that money is a powerful factor in determining policy."

"You want to buy a pardon?"

"That would be rather crude. I would much prefer to settle such matters a little more subtly. A general amnesty, for example, could be portrayed as a humanitarian gesture. A press campaign about rueful veterans wishing to return home would likely facilitate passing a corresponding bill."

And would grant Dumbledore a lot of influence in Wizarding Britain.

"That's not something you can promise, though," Rosengarten replied.

"Indeed, I cannot promise it. I can promise, however, that I will try my utmost to see it happen," Dumbledore said. "And I dare say that even if I failed in this, my offer is better than your other prospects."

"And I wouldn't be obliviated."

"No. But we would require a few assurances," Hermione spoke up.

"Such as?"

"A magical contract not to reveal our secrets," she said.

"Those can be dealt with by Curse-Breakers," Rosengarten retorted.

"Yes. But that's difficult, and, if correctly worded, the attempt alone will trigger the curse." Hermione flashed her teeth in a brief smile, leaving no doubt that she was sure she'd word it correctly.

"A magical contract? Ah, if we had access to such means when I was working for Her Majesty's Government, perhaps Mr Philby and his friends wouldn't have managed to evade our notice," Dumbledore said.

"It's not a perfect way to ensure loyalty and secrecy," Hermione told him.

"But it's better than most," the old man retorted.

"I won't blindly accept a contract," Rosengarten interjected with a frown.

"Of course not," Hermione said.

"But leaving such details aside, are you contemplating accepting our offer?" Dumbledore leaned forward, his meal seemingly forgotten for the moment.

"Contemplating, yes. There are a few important points that need to be addressed, though."

"Such as your salary, I suppose," Grindelwald said.

"Yes. And my duties. And whether or not this is an exclusive arrangement." Rosengarten focused on his meal again - or he appeared to.

"Money won't be an issue," Dumbledore said - and ignored Grindelwald's frown. "And while I wouldn't presume to limit your healing to us, I do expect discretion and cooperation in keeping our cover. Should news of a miracle healer start to spread, we might draw even more attention than Dr Granegr did."

"And we're still dealing with the after-effects of an invasion by the Russians," Sirius added.

Rosengarten blinked. "An invasion? Of Britain? By the Russians?"

"Well…" Harry's godfather grinned widely, "that's exactly what happened, technically, at least."

"It was more of a raid," Harry said.

"A large, well-armed and fanatical raid," Sirius retorted.

"With barely plausible deniability," Dumbledore added. "Russian criminals are apparently very disciplined and receive better training and equipment than most British soldiers."

"I see," Rosengarten said.

Ron was pretty sure he didn't. Not yet.

* * *

When dinner ended after a very impressive spread of various dessert dishes, Dumbledore and Rosengarten had pretty much hashed out their deal - or contract. Even Grindelwald seemed happy with the arrangement - the man wasn't scowling when he left with Dumbledore for their own private quarters.

Sirius yawned demonstratively and stretched. "Ah, I thought that would never end."

"We haven't actually finished our negotiations," Rosengarten pointed out.

"It's just the small stuff left," Sirius said.

"Yes," Ginny agreed. "And that won't change anything." She grinned. "I've negotiated enough deals with sponsors to know that."

"You mean your agent did," Ron corrected her.

She frowned at him in return. "The final decision was mine."

"And how often did you go against your agent?" Ron suppressed a grin; he knew the answer.

"It happened."

"Once," Ron said. "And you regretted it."

Now Ginny was scowling. But before she could retaliate, Hermione cleared her throat. "So, now you know more about our group, Mr Rosengarten."

"I do. And thank you for pointing out that there is a risk of war breaking out here as well."

"Well, not a real war," Sirius said. "More like a shadow war. A spy war. Everyone knows who's behind the 'terrorist attacks' and 'gang wars', but we all pretend we don't know."

"It's better than an actual war," Harry spoke up. "Russia isn't Argentina."

"I know," Sirius replied with narrowed eyes and a slight pout. "Anyway, I'm heading to bed." He stood, nodded at the rest of the group and left the lounge.

"That sounds like a good idea," Ginny announced, all but dragging Harry with her. "Good night, everyone."

"Good night," Ron replied, grinning at his friend as Harry and Ginny left as well.

"Well, we have a lot of planning to do!" Luna announced. "So we'll retire as well."

Wizarding Luna nodded in agreement. "The Internet makes it so easy to plan your trips - we need to introduce that to our world as well."

"The muggles have the Internet already," Hermione pointed out. "But it needs electronics to work, and a magical variant would be more limited because of the low population."

"Oh." Wizarding Luna frowned. "Perhaps we can use muggle means of travel, then. It would certainly be a new experience for Daddy."

"We can look into that once we've protected the Amazon rainforest," Luna said.

"You're right."

Ron had a bad feeling about that, but he couldn't think of a way to stop them right now. At least they were only making plans and not yet implementing them.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 11th, 2006**

"So… meeting in the lounge?" Ron frowned as he took a seat at the table next to Hermione.

"I know," Luna said, "I would have expected a secret planning and command room to have been installed by now. For a lair of a ranking member of the shadow government, this resort is sorely lacking in crucial amenities."

"I don't think Mr Dumbledore would want to waste resources building a Bond villain base," Hermione said.

Ron disagreed. He was certain that Dumbledore would love such a project, both for the amusement it would provide as well as the practical use he would get out of it. "If we're continuing to have meetings, then having a dedicated room would make sense."

"We can't run a campaign against the Russians out of the lounge," Sirius added as he took a seat as well and grabbed the pot of tea," and the portal room is a little too exposed."

"And too crowded with the portal equipment and the defensive installations," Harry said.

Hermione frowned but nodded - very reluctantly. "He could easily repurpose a room, I guess."

"But MI6 would be aware of it, then," Luna pointed out. "After all, the base was penetrated by the Russians and then taken by the British Army. It would be better to dig a new one without them knowing. They are notoriously riddled with spies working for his rivals."

"We could vanish the soil easily," wizarding Luna chimed in. "We did that to add an underground lair for Voracious Moles at the Rookery. We had to stabilise the basement a few times, though, and the Rookery is now a little crookedy. But Daddy found a spell that realigned gravity, so it's fine now."

"I don't think we can easily stabilise the resort here," Hermione said, "so we might want to be a little more careful with vanishing large parts of the soil and bedrock."

"Voracious Moles?" Sirius asked.

"Magical moles. They look almost like muggle moles, just with fangs and claws. And they're bigger - well, they have to be bigger since they prey on bigger animals," wizarding Luna explained.

Ginny frowned as she addressed the witch. "Just how big are they?"

"Oh, not really big. Barely bigger than a fat man. And they look very cute. They're also very useful for tunnelling - the dwarves are said to have used tame moles for their oldest tunnels."

That meant… bear-sized. Ron had the sudden mental image of giant fanged voles bursting out of the ground to pounce on hikers. Or hikers suddenly vanishing in the ground, dragged into tunnels dug beneath trails. Or monsters breaking into basements, then attacking the residents when they came down to check on the noise…

He wasn't the only one who looked a little pale, he noted when he glanced around. "Uh… those voles… are there any in Scotland?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, no. It's a little too cold for them," wizarding Luna replied. "Although they could dig deep enough to use geothermal heat to keep warm, I guess. If that works, Iceland would be a great habitat for them."

"Wouldn't the lava endanger them?" Luna cocked her head. "If they dig into a lava chamber by mistake…"

"Oh, no! That would be terrible - they would be burned!" wizarding Luna gasped.

And the lava would probably shoot through the tunnels they had dug, and reach the surface far away from any volcano… Ron grimaced.

"But… I could ask Hagrid if he could cross them with fire crabs and make them immune to fire." Wizarding Luna perked up.

"Did the ICW lift the ban on breeding new magical creatures?" Hermione asked in a slightly strained voice.

"Oh." The other witch looked crestfallen. "No. No, they didn't. Fiddlesticks."

Crisis averted - for now.

"We might need to take measures to protect the environment here from invasive magical species," Hermione said. "The portal is well-guarded, but some species might still slip through."

"Yes, like Nargles," wizarding Luna said. "I can put up some wards, if you wish?"

"On the other side, I think - the wards would interfere with the electronics here that control the portal," Hermione told her.

"Oh." Wizarding Luna blinked. "Well, that would certainly prevent any invasion by invasive species, but it would also shut down travel… hm…"

Fortunately, before wizarding Luna could develop another terrifying idea, Dumbledore arrived, followed by Rosengarten and Grindelwald. "Good afternoon, everyone!" He beamed at them. "I'm pleased to announce that Abraham has agreed to work for us."

Ron smiled, honestly pleased - an experienced Healer would make their plans, well, not easier, but at least safer. Though as discussed, now they probably needed to find more trustworthy wizards to keep an eye on Rosengarten. Trust but verify, as Moody would say.

"That's good news," Hermione said. "I hope you'll like it here, Mr Rosengarten."

"So do I," the Healer replied.

Ron wondered if the old man was planning to use Apparition to get around England. And what Dumbledore thought about that.

"So, with that settled," Dumbledore spoke up, "I believe we should address a few of our other issues. Such as the threat to this installation posed by the Russian government."

"And the threat posed by the British government," Luna added.

Dumbledore nodded, not losing his smile. "Quite correct. As everyone who had ever worked for Her Majesty's Government knows, our most dangerous enemy is found amongst our own ranks - mostly in the Treasury, of course."

Sirius laughed at that, and Ron had to chuckle as well - it was an old joke containing more than a grain of truth according to Dad and Percy.

"However, I think that the more urgent threat is the Russian one. Our own government might not be as smart as we'd like it to be, but most of the people in charge understand that scientific research will take time and so they won't expect results from us immediately. The Russians, however, will likely have heard about our cover story and will feel increasing pressure to acquire our data. Even worse, they'll plan to either acquire Dr Granger as well or to deny us her talents." The old spymaster looked grim. "They will see this as a threat and act accordingly."

"Which means we're under time pressure as well," Harry stated.

"Yes. I've already started to activate a few old sources in Russia, but, so far, the intel we've received hasn't been very useful," Dumbledore said.

"No wonder if you're using Russian sources," Grindelwald grumbled.

"I remain optimistic that they will prove useful, but I fear that to acquire actionable intel before it's too late, we'll need to make use of your particular talents, Dr Granger, Miss Lovegood."

That meant another trip to Russia.

Great.

* * *

_She looked at the note again. According to it, the Curse-Breaker they were seeking was living in the building at the corner. A muggle flat. That meant he wouldn't have been able to put up wards. Not without rendering all electronics inside them useless - and even limited to his flat, that would affect the other tenants; electricity and other cables ran through all of the flats, after all. On the other hand, what kind of Snatcher would expect a Curse-Breaker to live in an unprotected muggle building? Hiding in plain sight - a daring, but often effective, plan._

"_How did they find him?" Ron asked._

"_Shacklebolt has contacts in the Metropolitan Police," she explained. The Auror had been on the Prime Minister's protection detail for months, after all._

"_And how did they find him?"_

"_Probably by violating people's privacy," she said with a snort. At least that was what her parents would have said._

"_What?"_

"_It means," Harry cut in with a sigh, "that the muggle Aurors ran searches without the proper authorisation from their superiors."_

_Hermione pressed her lips together. She wanted to correct Harry and explain the exact procedure, but this wasn't the time or place. The man they were about to visit was, according to Bill, the best British Curse-Breaker when it came to Horcruxes. _

_And they needed his help to save Harry._


	52. Chapter 52: The Reconnaissance Mission

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 52: The Reconnaissance Mission**

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 11th, 2006**

"The Russians will expect us," Ron pointed out.

"Indeed, they will be prepared for us," Dumbledore replied. "They have been tightening their border security ever since their last attack on British soil - incidentally, they cited the fact that 'so many criminals managed to leave the country without being noticed' as a reason for the increased security. I've no doubt that President Putin has also significantly increased the Kremlin's security, though I've not yet acquired proof of that. However, it goes without saying that we should assume the worst."

"They don't know our real capabilities, though," Hermione said. "They won't know that we can use Veritaserum and alter memories."

"I fear that won't matter as much as you hope, Dr Granger." Dumbledore shook his head. "The Russian government has a long tradition of paranoia. They've been expecting traitors to appear in their ranks for decades." He sighed. "Unfortunately, in a reversal of our own situation, we were never able to insert as many spies and turn as many officials, not by far, as they assumed we had. But we can be assured that any official involved in the portal affair will be closely monitored by FSB guards."

"Or already dead and buried," Grindelwald added with a sneer. "That's how the Russians work."

"That's how most governments would work if they didn't have to at least pay lip service to public opinion and their own propaganda," Luna interjected. "Like when the French sank the Rainbow Warrior."

"Well, that was quite a blunder for our French colleagues," Dumbledore said. "I was quite surprised that the affair came to light."

Grindelwald sniffed and probably muttered something uncomplimentary about the French under his breath. Ron couldn't make out the words, but by now, he was quite familiar with the man's attitude and views.

"That is quite informative, but it doesn't help us plan how to deal with Putin," Harry said.

"Knowing what to expect and that we cannot afford to underestimate Putin is quite helpful, I'd say," Dumbledore retorted. "But I take your point. As a matter of fact, I have some thoughts about how we can leverage magic to gather more information." His polite smile twisted slightly, almost turning into a smirk.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 13th, 2006**

Wizarding Harry and Ron didn't look very happy when they arrived through the portal, followed by Hermione, Ron noticed. So she had managed to convince them but not without some friction. If Ron had been with her, perhaps… no, that would have made things more awkward.

"So this is the other world," Ron's counterpart said, looking around.

"Welcome," Ron told him with a tight smile. "And thank you for helping us."

The wizard snorted. "We wouldn't have to do this if you'd stuck with your original plan. Hiring an untrustworthy Healer…" He shook his head.

"He isn't exactly untrustworthy," Hermione said. "As I explained, we merely want some… safeguards while we're dealing with an urgent problem."

"If he were trustworthy, you wouldn't need our help," wizarding Harry retorted.

"Let's agree that he's unlikely to betray us, but it never hurts to take more precautions?" Ron suggested with a smile that he didn't quite mean.

The way both wizards frowned at him told Ron that, yes, his presence at Hermione's side would have made things more awkward. And that they could see through his act. Well, the other Ron was his counterpart, so that was to be expected.

"And we should go with you to deal with whatever problem you have," wizarding Harry told Hermione.

"You can come - once we're doing more than just some information gathering," she replied. "In fact, we're counting on your help. But right now, we need you here, making sure that the portal is safe."

Her two friends nodded, though Ron could see that they did so grudgingly. Well, that wasn't his problem. He had a recon mission deep in the heart of Russia to prepare for.

* * *

**North of Hoilola, Eastern Finland, January 16th, 2006**

Ron looked around. They were in a small clearing, surrounded by dense forest - apart from the cove leading to a small lake. He couldn't see any witnesses. Or threats. The snow would hide a lot, though.

"Ah, the memories!"

Dumbledore sighed loudly as he stepped out of the SUV that had brought him here. 'Here' being a pretty deserted spot of land in Eastern Finland with nothing to recommend it to a tourist other than being close to the border with Russia. Well, that was why they had spent close to a day travelling here.

The old spymaster turned to face the rest of the group as they left the two cars as well. "The last time I was here … well, I wouldn't call them innocent times, but they were different times. Very different."

Ron nodded. The middle of the Cold War.

"I still say that your previous visit means this area might be under special surveillance." Hermione was still trying to win the argument she had lost in Britain. Stubborn to a fault.

"On the contrary!" And Dumbledore obliged her every time. "President Putin won't expect us to cross the border here. Not that expecting it would help him, anyway."

Ron wasn't quite certain that this particular gambit would work as Dumbledore expected it to, but he couldn't disagree with the fact that the odds of even a prepared border guard being able to stop them were very low.

Dumbledore rolled his shoulders and sighed again. "This takes me back fifty years!" The black turtleneck the old man was wearing, matching his black pants, certainly looked like vintage clothes.

Ron couldn't help feeling that Dumbledore was more motivated by his desire to relive his newly found, well, middle age would probably be correct, rather than by a real need to be on this mission. But Rosengarten had given the old man a clean bill of health, and Dumbledore had managed to keep up with the Lunas during one of their morning runs. In addition, the old spymaster wasn't just trusted not to be a traitor, but also the most experienced among them when it came to Russia. And a good shot with both pistol and rifle as well.

Still, if he weren't paying for this, didn't speak Russian like a native and had assets in place in the country, Dumbledore wouldn't be here. The mission was to gather intel and, if possible, get Putin - not to recapture Dumbledore's youth.

"We still have a few hours until night falls," Dumbledore said. "Shall we rest a little before we brave the border?"

* * *

Ron had spent most of the few hours until night had fallen with Hermione inside the tent. January in Finland wasn't exactly a good time to spend outdoors. Not even if you were bundled up with the best cold-weather gear money could buy. To think people had fought wars in this weather…

Ron shivered as he climbed out of the trunk and then climbed out of the boot of the SUV in which they had placed it. Yes, too damn cold. Even Scotland wasn't this bad.

"I think we should've prepared a miniature helicopter," Luna said with a pout.

"We have to assume that the Russians are aware of our use of drones," Dumbledore, who didn't seem to mind the cold at all, told her. "They will have improved their defences, and while they couldn't possibly have upgraded their radar stations at every point along their borders, they will have prioritised their western borders."

"Not to mention that we'd have had to build a helicopter which could be piloted by shrunken people," Sirius pointed out. "That wouldn't have been a small task."

Luna pouted even more, though Ron couldn't say whether it was at not having gotten a helicopter to pilot, or at Sirius's rather inelegant wordplay. "What about a shrunken flying tank?"

"No," Hermione said when Sirius perked up.

"It would be safer than a broom," the older man protested.

"Only if we've actually been spotted, and even then, we'd have trouble evading the response by the Russian air force," Ron retorted. "Shrunken tanks have shrunken armour as well." He shook his head - they had gone over this before. Several times. "Let's do this," he said.

"Yes," wizarding Luna agreed. "Before we attract the attention of the ice fairies. They love to play pranks on humans in winter."

"There aren't any ice fairies in this world," Hermione pointed out.

"We can't know that," the other witch replied. "If magic is possible here, they could exist. Some noted Magizoologists theorised that elemental creatures could spontaneously come into being in an area that was particularly attuned to their chosen element." She smiled. "And without wizards to check, they would remain undetected in this world. After all, the stories about magic in this world are the same or close to the same as in our world. And isn't that telling?"

"It is a mystery, but I doubt that there are magical creatures in this world. And if there were, they would soon be discovered by muggles," Hermione retorted.

Wizarding Luna shook her head. "That depends on the species."

"In any case," Hermione said, a little sharply, "we are on a time table and should cross the border now. We can discuss magical creatures once we're safely in the Russian countryside."

"Words I would never have sincerely spoken in my youth," Dumbledore said. "Nor would I have ever expected to infiltrate a hostile country in a quite so luxurious a manner."

Ron pressed his lips together. It might be comfortable to travel inside the enchanted trunk, but they would be travelling blind as well. And without a way to even talk to Hermione, who would be flying on brooms with wizarding Luna.

He hated it. But there was no other way - or, rather, there was no better way. Shipping themselves into Russia? The FIS might intercept the shipment because the addresses used as a cover were compromised, and then they would have to try and fight their way out of an FIS base. Having Hermione and Luna disillusion everyone and use brooms to cross the border? A recipe for disaster since Ron and the other muggles wouldn't be able to see each other. And flying tanks or cars? He snorted. They couldn't wait the weeks to months enchanting one would take.

No, it was best to trust Hermione and wizarding Luna to handle this without problems. And the odds that they would mess up were slim, anyway - they only had to fly low to avoid the radar and follow the roads.

He still couldn't help worrying as he kissed Hermione before returning to the tent inside the trunk.

* * *

**Republic of Karelia, Russia, January 16th, 2006**

It took about two hours until a familiar soft chime alerted Ron to the fact that someone had opened the trunk. He stepped out of the tent, pistol ready. Just in case.

But instead of some burly Russia border guard, there was no one. Wait… "Hermione?"

"She's still setting up the Muggle-Repelling Charms," a voice answered him - wizarding Luna. "Don't go outside, by the way - the charms might make you leave us. They're not very discerning. And since you're not disillusioned, you would be seen by any muggles in the area, too."

"Or satellites," Luna, standing behind him, added.

"Those, too, yes." Wizarding Luna faded into view, holding a broom and her wand. "To think muggles can spy on us from so far away…" She shook her head. "They didn't tell us that in Muggle Studies."

"That's because the course books were written before mankind reached orbit."

That was Hermione! She, too, turned visible behind wizarding Luna, on the stairs. She flicked her wand, and the lid slid closed.

"I've concealed and protected the area outside. As Luna said, don't go outside without one of us - you might find yourself walking straight into a border patrol while making up reasons why you cannot come back to us."

That was a rather disturbing notion. Ron would've preferred a way to hide that didn't run the danger of accidentally mind-controlling themselves, but it sounded far more effective than a simple invisibility zone. "Let's talk inside," he said, stepping into the tent. The trunk's interior was too damn cold - if the Russians had a satellite pointed at the area that allowed them to look into the infrared spectrum, they would notice warm air escaping, charms or no charms.

"I need to finish a spell that acts as an air barrier," Hermione said as she followed him.

"Yes," wizarding Luna agreed. "With that, we could shelter ice fairies inside here in the summer. Once we spot a few, I mean."

"I hope we won't be in Russia in the summer," Ron told her. That would mean their surveillance hadn't been successful. Or they had been captured by the Russians and imprisoned. Although that would also mean that Hermione's friends had failed to save them, which Ron thought would be unlikely. His and Harry's counterparts didn't have Ron's experience with these sort of operations, much less Dumbledore's, but with Grindelwald's help, they would certainly have a good go at it.

Not that Ron was planning on needing them to come to the rescue, ever. He might not be a wizard, but he could take care of himself and his friends.

And as far as Ron could tell, Dumbledore hadn't gotten up - the old spymaster was still sitting at the table. Harry and Sirius, though, were just putting their pistols away, and Ron saw that an M4 carbine was leaning against the part of the couch Ginny was sharing with Harry.

"I trust that we're safe," Dumbledore said with a smile. Did he honestly trust them to have picked a good place to hide for the night? Or was this another act, like his vintage spy act? And what was his goal?

Ron didn't know.

"Yes," Hermione told him. "We're currently in the middle of a forest, east of the main road to Moscow. There aren't any hiking trails or roads nearby."

"And not many wolves, I think," wizarding Luna added. "Even though this would be perfect territory for a pack of dire wolves."

"Perfect." Dumbledore nodded with a smile.

"Yes, perfect, as I said," wizarding Luna repeated herself with a matching smile.

Ron couldn't tell if she had really misunderstood Dumbledore's comment or not.

"So, we managed the first step of our mission - we've successfully infiltrated Russia," Dumbledore told them as he spread a map on the table. "Since we're now well behind the border, we shouldn't have any trouble making our way into the Moscow region using the same method of transportation."

"As planned," Hermione said.

"Yes." The old man nodded. "Once we are near Moscow, however, we'll have to take the Russians' security into account. They will expect us, even though I doubt that they will be prepared for our actual methods." He grinned. "Although I doubt that putting up a tent in one of Moscow's parks would be a good idea."

Ron rolled his eyes even as the Lunas giggled. They had gone over this in Scotland.

And while Ron wasn't fully on board with the plan, he at least wouldn't whine about it during the mission. Unless he discovered a flaw in the plan, of course.

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 18th, 2006**

Ron hadn't expected a luxury hotel suite - the Russians would be checking every tourist and all other visitors to Moscow, and fake IDs only went so far - and he understood that they shouldn't leave a paper trail, but… "A shed?"

"It's perfect for our needs," Dumbledore said, his breath fogging up in the cold air. "It hides us from view, the roof will block and diffuse our heat signature enough to fool thermographic sensors, and the owners of this plot of land obviously won't need it over winter since it was empty except for a few gardening tools. Which means they won't be inconvenienced by Dr Granger's SEP field."

Ron stared at the old man with his mouth slightly open. Had Dumbledore just…

"He was one of my favourite authors," Dumbledore confirmed with a soft smile. "Passed away far too young, alas."

"Ah." Ron didn't quite know what to make of that. Douglas Admas had been a great author. Some of his books were among Ron's all-time favourites. But to find out that Dumbledore liked them as well? That didn't feel right. "It also limits us to magical travel, though," he pointed out. "We can't exactly enter and leave a farm without arousing suspicion."

"We would have been faced with the same problem in Moscow proper," the old man countered. "And with far more scrutiny by people who are actively looking for us - and are aware we might be able to turn invisible." He smiled again. "Not to mention that finding a spot where we could place an enchanted trunk without risking discovery could have been a little tricky."

The old man had, as he usually did, a point. Even though setting up a spy base on a floor of a high-rise that everyone would avoid and ignore would have been great. The possibilities…

"Besides, I doubt that we would have found discreet accommodations that could rival the rooms in the tent."

Ron disagreed - the space inside the tent was limited, even though it was a generous limit, and the furniture had seen better days - but he nodded anyway. No point in arguing. Not in this blasted cold. How did the Russians survive in this hellhole?

A popping sound next to him made him whirl round and almost draw his gun before he recognised Hermione. "Everything's set up," she announced. "We should be safe from any Russian visitors, benevolent or otherwise."

Dumbledore snorted in return. "Gellert would surely say something about Russians never being benevolent, but I agree with you."

Hermione nodded curtly and entered the trunk, rubbing her gloved hands together.

As before, the temperature in the trunk was almost as cold as outside - no need to take unnecessary risks - but as soon as they stepped into the tent that changed and all three of them quickly shed their thick jackets, gloves and headgear.

"Oh, good, you're finally back!" Ginny greeted them in the living room, then turned back towards the kitchen. "Harry! We can start dinner!"

"Another advantage," Dumbledore commented as they sat down at the table. "We don't have to fear being poisoned by the hotel restaurant staff."

"Did the Russians actually do that?" Ron asked.

"Let's just say their attempt to use a chemical agent in the Moscow Theatre Hostage Crisis in 2002 was based upon earlier operations - although operations on a much, much smaller scale," Dumbledore said. "But what worked against a single agent or a small team couldn't safely be used against hundreds of people of all ages and genders, and the results, as we know, were tragic."

And they were about to spy on the same people who had run that operation.

Great.

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 19th, 2006**

"...and our preliminary reconnaissance flight showed that while they have increased the security around the Kremlin, there are still several gaps we can use," Dumbledore said as he spread out several pictures on the table.

"Did they install radar on the Kremlin?" Sirius asked, pointing at a barely concealed dish. "Wait… Missiles?"

"According to the newspaper we acquired, the official story is that there are credible terrorist threats against the Kremlin," the old spymaster explained. "While they do not go into details, the association with the attack on the World Trade Centre was clearly desired."

"Those are MANPADS - they wouldn't stop a crashing aircraft," Sirius said, shaking his head.

"The average civilian isn't aware of that," Dumbledore retorted. "And it serves as an explanation for the presence of radar."

"And the radar didn't pick you up?" Sirius asked. "According to what I've heard, the newer missiles should be able to lock on to man-sized flying drones."

"We were quite a bit smaller," Hermione replied with a smile. "They would pick up a pigeon before they found us."

"Oh." Sirius blinked. "Great. We won't have to worry about Russian anti-aircraft fire. But we'll be in danger from Russian birds of prey…"

"Unless avians suddenly develop radar senses, we'll be safe from them as well," Hermione retorted. "And we're too large to be hunted by bats."

"Ah."

Sirius didn't sound very reassured. Ron could understand it, of course - he still had the occasional nightmare about giant spiders hunting him.

But it was certainly a good way to avoid the Kremlin's security. At least for reconnaissance.

* * *

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 20th, 2006**

They were disillusioned, had been shrunk and were now flying a few yards above the heads of the people below. Far too small to be detected by the radar the Russians had installed as anything but a bird. Too small to trip any other sensors that might have been installed in the Kremlin - well, there might be some hermetically sealed rooms further inside where even a shrunken person might trigger an alert.

And they were disillusioned, so no hungry spider or bird should attempt to prey on them. Should - Ron couldn't help feeling as if he was about to be attacked whenever he saw a bird flying nearby. Or resting on one of the windowsills. His rifle - a heavier calibre, again, than the assault rifle he preferred - should deal with most small animals, but if the Kremlin's guards examined a dead bird or other animal and found miniature bullet holes… Or if they caught sight of the bullets suddenly expanding once the spell ended…

He blinked. Letting someone ingest a shrunken rock or something and then cancelling the spell would be a rather gruesome way to kill them. It wouldn't be detected as poison, either, would it? Magically, that was.

He'd have to ask Hermione. Once they weren't flying a few yards above two guards and headed towards a half-open window.

He managed not to hold on more tightly to her as she lined up their broom, and they slipped through the gap and into an office. "Next time, I want to fly the broom," he mumbled as they came to a stop on top of an old-style filing cabinet, "and you can be the gunner. Or the caster."

He heard her huff in response. "I already agreed that you'd pilot once you know the layout."

"It bears repeating."

Another huff followed. "It's not as if I want to pilot," she complained.

"Don't let Luna and Ginny hear that."

Both chuckled at that. Ginny still wanted to play Quidditch, even though they had no way to play it without the MI6 agents noticing. They couldn't exactly disillusion everyone as well as all the balls. It was difficult enough to talk to empty air when he and Hermione were both invisible, especially as he was unable to use a spell to see where she was.

"Let's proceed with the mission," Hermione told him. She inched their broom forward so they could study the Russian man sitting behind an oversized desk below.

A bit too young for a high-ranking official - Putin might not be a democrat, but while he was more than flirting with despotism, nepotism wasn't quite as endemic as in many open dictatorships. But the man also didn't seem to be a typical clerk. Too muscular. Too sharp - at this time of the day, the middle of the afternoon, most office workers tended to be a little less focused. Especially with the heating going at full blast. That was why they were doing this now, after all - people were tired and prone to opening the windows for some fresh air. But the man was a little too diligent. Too focused. "Bait, I think," Ron said.

"Ah. Yes, I think you're right," Hermione replied. "He looks like a soldier rather than a clerk."

Or a thug, Ron thought. "So… skip this office?"

"Hm. A bug won't do any harm, I think," she replied.

He made an agreeing noise. He doubted that the Russians would discuss anything sensitive in the office here, but people might slip up. "But be careful."

"Always."

That was a lie, of course. But she did pick the wall right behind the filing cabinet for their bug.

If you could call an enchanted sphere the size of a small beach ball containing a 'Dictaquill' and a never-ending scroll of parchment with a Protean Charm, as Hermione had explained, a bug. Well, as Hermione had shrunk it - before putting it in her pockets so the spell wouldn't break when she returned to her normal size - it didn't look like a bug. More like some animal's droppings. Which might fool the Russians, should they stumble upon it.

The odds were low, though - Hermione had already opened a hole in the wall's stucco. After putting the sphere inside, Ron heard her mutter 'Reparo' and the broken stucco fixed itself.

"That should be good for a few days at least," she said.

"Yes." One office down, a dozen left.

And the hermetically sealed rooms Ron knew the paranoid Russians would have installed.

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 22nd, 2006**

"Say, Hermione… Is it possible to create a portal from here to Scotland?" Ginny asked. "We wouldn't have to sit around in a tent that way." She stretched her arms over her head. "It's really cutting into my training."

"You haven't actually trained on a court in months," Ron pointed out.

His sister frowned at him. "I know. And I really need to start training seriously again." With a smile, she turned to Hermione. "So?"

Hermione put down her notes and sighed. "Unfortunately, my portal only works for dimensional travel."

"What about the Floo?" Harry asked as he entered the living room from the kitchen, still drying his hands with a towel.

"That requires a central hub," Hermione replied, drawing her wand.

Harry held out the towel, and she cast a cleaning charm on it. "Thanks," he said and turned around to return the freshly cleaned towel to the kitchen.

"I think Harry's overdoing it with the cleaning charms," Ron commented.

Now Hermione frowned at him. "I don't think so, and I'm the one casting the charms."

"Yes," Ginny chimed in. "_I_ certainly like having clean towels around."

He rolled his eyes at the implied insult. "That was one camping trip, and I was twelve." He spotted Hermione's raised eyebrows - so his counterpart hadn't done that, had he? He sighed. "I had just read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy," he explained. "And I was carrying my towel everywhere."

"Into mud, rain, the lake…" Ginny shook her head, then slid a little to the side so Harry, who had returned, could sit next to her. "Mum wasn't pleased."

Hermione giggled. "I can imagine that."

"I was twelve," Ron repeated himself. "Ginny did worse."

"I'm not the one complaining about clean towels," she retorted. "It's one of the few luxuries we're allowed here."

"Like hot water that never runs out, a giant bathroom and a pantry stocked with delicacies and magical beds," Ron added.

"I've got all that normally," Ginny said. "And Harry would have it, too, if he could convince Sirius to remodel the house."

Ron rolled his eyes again. She didn't have to rub in her wealth. And Harry's.

"Well, enjoy it while we're here - I'm not going to make a career out of cleaning towels," Hermione said.

"But could you enchant them?" Ginny asked.

"I would have to adjust the charms. It's not as easy as it looks," Hermione said.

"Ah." Ginny glanced at Ron. "Like tennis isn't just hitting a ball over a net."

He could point out that he had been thirteen, and terribly jealous of Ginny winning her first tournaments and their parents driving her all over England for her matches. But he wasn't a teenager any more. "Ginny's right, though," he said instead, "a way to travel back and forth easily would be great."

Hermione winced a little. "I know. But it's too far for Apparition, and neither I nor Luna ever learned how to create Portkeys or a Floo Network hub." His surprise must have shown on his face since she frowned and added: "The Floo Network was never feasible; we were moving too much and it would have rendered our safe houses more vulnerable. And creating Portkeys is difficult - and we were staying in Britain, so Apparition was more useful; faster travel and less disorientation."

"Less disorientation?" Ginny blurted out. "Just how bad are 'Portkeys'?"

"It feels like a hook around your navel pulling you towards your destination," Hermione explained. "But that's just the official description. It actually feels like you're being spun around at high speed for the duration of the trip - and it's not instantaneous. When they were used to transport students to Hogwarts, the infirmary was filled for days with dizzy and nauseous students. St Mungo's recommends that the elderly don't use them."

Ron grimaced. "Why would anyone use them at all?" Apart from some wizards being gluttons for punishment.

"Because not everyone can apparate, or disillusion themselves so they can use a broom during the day, and the Floo Network doesn't cover everywhere. And it's a handy way to transport large numbers of people, especially in staggered groups."

Harry shook his head. "If Sirius were here, he would once more ask for an invisible flying tank."

Ron snorted, and he wasn't the only one. Sirius was currently busy helping Dumbledore sort through yesterday's parchments. He didn't speak Russian, but he could read enough Russian to be of some use to the old spymaster - who spoke Russian perfectly, of course. Still, they would probably not finish until dinner, at which point the next batch would be ready. And the Lunas were adding more bugs already.

Damn, he was thinking of them. And he didn't want to. They were alone in the Kremlin, shrunken, flying around. If anything went wrong…

He shook his head. He had to trust them. Just as he had to trust his friends and family. And Dumbledore, even if he didn't want to.

* * *

The Lunas returned a little later than expected, but hale and whole. "We did it!" Luna announced with a wide smile.

"Great," Ron told her with a smile that, or so he hoped, wouldn't show how relieved he was to see them back. "Any trouble?"

"Yes," wizarding Luna replied at once. "Unfortunately, the Russians aren't as uncaring about the environment as we thought - it took a while to find an open window. I could've blown a hole in a window and repaired it afterwards, but Luna said that would be noticed because there are wires in the windows."

"Ah." Yes, that would have been dangerous. Ron nodded. "We'll have to take that into account."

"A Drying Charm directed at someone's head might make them open the window, but the size difference is so huge when we're shrunk, I don't think the average Russian would notice any spell I cast."

Ron made a mental note that spell effects shrank with their caster. That meant attacking while shrunk wasn't advisable. Pity - Putin felled by people smaller than a mouse would've been a riot.

"Is Albus still working?" Luna asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes."

Luna frowned. "He shouldn't push himself like that."

"He's the only one who can read and speak Russian," Ron retorted.

"And he likes going over the transcripts," wizarding Luna added.

Ron could believe that. Having records straight from the Kremlin? It must be a dream come true for Dumbledore. It certainly was for Luna. "Well, let's inform him that he'll have more transcripts," he said, "and remind him that it'll soon be time for dinner." Once Harry finished it - as much as he loved the towel cleaning charm, he hadn't let Hermione use magic to keep a meal hot and fresh for hours.

"Yes."

Dumbledore's room, which also served as his office, was at the end of the hallway lined with doors. Ron knocked, waited for the old man's "enter", and opened the door.

The old spymaster was seated behind one of two desks Hermione had conjured for him, surrounded by chests and shelves, conjured as well, both almost buried in parchment. "Ah," he said, nodding at them with a wry smile. "You installed more listening devices, I gather?"

"Yes!" Luna announced. "Some of them should already have started transcribing."

"Thank you, my dear." He picked up a stack of parchment from a corner and put it down on his desk, moving three other stacks a little to make room. "It's fortunate that I am a quick reader, or the amount of information to sift through would quickly outpace my efforts."

"Instead, you're slowly getting outpaced?" Ron asked.

Dumbledore laughed. "Oh, I'm quite familiar with this situation. Back when I was in Her Majesty's Secret Service, I could've spent my whole day in Analysis without making a dent into the amount of information that arrived daily. I had good analysts, of course, who sorted through our raw intel, but… part of me always wanted to check every source myself."

Well, the old man had gotten his wish.

"We'd help, but… I never learned Russian," wizarding Luna said. "I wouldn't ever have expected it to be as useful as Mermish or Gaelic."

"Or programming languages," Luna added.

The old man nodded. "Understandable, though… Gaelic?"

"To talk to the Fae," wizarding Luna told him. "In case I ever met them."

"The Fae are real?" Ron blurted out. That was… disturbing. "What are they doing?"

"Well… it's hard to say, what with them hiding Underhill," Luna said. "No one has seen any Fae since before the Statute of Secrecy was implemented, and what records we have don't add up. If only the goblins would stop pretending that they have no ties to the Unseelie Court!"

Ah. Ron would have to ask Hermione about that. But first… "It'll soon be time for dinner," he told Dumbledore, even though the old man was already aware of that, in Ron's opinion.

He didn't miss much, after all.

* * *

"I've got news," Dumbledore announced at dinner. "I've been able to confirm our suspicion that President Putin is using a sealed room - a command centre, deep below the Kremlin, built during the Cold War."

"Wait," Sirius interrupted him. "The Kremlin would've been nuked in the first volley if the Cold War had turned hot. And they would've used enough bombs to take out any bunker."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "I assume that the bunker also has an underground escape tunnel, so the leaders of the USSR would've evacuated first underground, then out of Moscow. While I trust our American allies would have used enough nuclear bombs to have a ninety-five per cent chance of destroying such a bunker, it would've taken them some time - enough for the Soviet leadership to get away."

Oh. "And do you think the escape tunnel still exists?" Ron asked.

"I would be very surprised if the Russians had filled it in. Especially under Putin. He would know the value of a safe evacuation route."

Well, so did Ron and everyone else present.

"That means the escape route will be guarded and possibly trapped," Harry pointed out. "Not to mention secret."

"Indeed. It's still a weak spot compared to the, ah, direct approach," Dumbledore said.

"But do we actually need it? We can just go after Putin once he's not in the bunker," Ginny said.

"I don't think he'll be leaving the bunker any time soon. I fear doubles will be replacing him in public," Dumbledore told her. "He is a former KGB officer, after all, and he would be aware of the danger 'advanced technology' poses for him."

"But he won't expect magic. We could impersonate his guards or assistants," Hermione said.

"If you manage to learn how to speak Russian well enough to pass simple checks," Dumbledore pointed out. "I do think the direct approach is our best bet, but we need more information."

"We'll do more recon," Ron said, looking at Hermione.

She nodded.

* * *

"_And? Is it Nott's manor?" Harry asked._

"_That would be 'Nott Manor'", she corrected him without taking her eyes off the building in the distance. "And I can't tell, not yet." It wasn't as if wizarding manors had mailboxes with their name on it._

"_We've been here for hours," Harry complained. _

"_And we'll be here for a little longer," Ron said. _

"_We could set fire to it, see who rushes out," Harry suggested. She knew what kind of fire he meant._

"_And what if it's not a Death Eater family?" Ron protested._

"_How many non-Death Eater families own such a manor?" Harry shot back._

"_Longbottom. Bones. Smith," Ron told him._

"_Well, it's not Neville's or Susan's," Harry retorted. "And Smith is a pillock."_

"_That's not reason enough to set his home on fire," she told him sharply._

_Harry huffed, then sighed. "I know. I just…" He shrugged. "I just want to do something. Something useful."_

_Instead of waiting for more information about their actual mission. She knew that - and felt the same._

_But they wouldn't start burning down houses without knowing whether they were valid targets._


	53. Chapter 53: The Bunker

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 53: The Bunker**

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 23rd, 2006**

Ron suppressed a sigh as the towers of the Kremlin grew closer. Once more into the breach - or, in this case, into the heart of darkness, as Sirius called it - and he was once more a passenger.

On the other hand, while he didn't have as much experience as Hermione had on a broom - though she hadn't ridden a broom for seven years - he did have more experience with modern security systems. And that's what they were here for. If he were guiding the broom, he wouldn't be able to focus on that.

But he still would prefer to fly himself.

They were flying low over a roof and were almost at Red Square. Ron kept an eye out for birds. The birds might not be able to see them, but that didn't prevent accidental collisions. And if they were rammed by a bird several times Ron's own mass while riding a broom high in the air, the effects wouldn't be pretty. At least the birds' presence insured that they wouldn't have to worry about radar or other means that might detect them.

At least outside the Kremlin. Inside, the Russians didn't have to worry about birds triggering false alerts. Though they still had to worry about insects and vermin, so any system that could detect two shrunk people as a threat, but would dismiss a moth or perhaps a mouse would be an outlier. On the other hand, Putin might not care in the slightest about his guards having to chase moths and mice...

"Which route should we take?" Hermione asked as they flew low over Red Square.

"Let's try the corner office on the first floor," he told her. The clerk there loved fresh air and often had both his window and the door open. Ron wondered how the man could stand the cold - even with the heating at full blast, almost hot enough to boil water over the radiators, the office was cold.

Wizarding Luna thought the man had Ice Faeries amongst his ancestors. Or Siberian Giants. Luna thought he was the result of a genetic experiment in the sixties.

All that mattered now, though, was that the man had often facilitated their entry into the Kremlin with his habits. And today was no different from their last trip - they flew through the open window, made a quick stop on top of a filing cabinet to check on the bug there and look out for trouble. They could've apparated, of course - they knew the office by now - but that would make a distinct noise. The odds of someone noticing were a little too high.

Once the coast was clear, they flew into the hallway. Nothing new here, Ron noted. Same guards at the lift - different people, but the same number. And as they flew closer, towards the stairs, Ron also saw that the guards had the same orders as last time: They stepped aside as the lift doors opened, and a man stepped out but quickly moved to ensure no invisible person could slip out of the cabin behind him.

Unless they were shrunken and flying, of course - Hermione guided the broom into the lift without any trouble. And there didn't seem to be any new sensors or countermeasures, so all they had to do was to wait until someone entered who was travelling downstairs, into the basement.

Which could take a while, of course. It took four clerks travelling up and down before a young soldier in a crisp uniform with polished boots entered. A junior officer, Ron noted - he hadn't seen him before, but that didn't mean anything. Not with the dozens of guards changing shifts every day.

And now they were travelling to the basement - the officer had used a code and a badge. He wasn't going to the lowest level, but it would be enough for them to scout out the area - there had to be stairs leading down as well. Perhaps even escape chutes, as Luna had speculated - though those would probably only be installed in Putin's office.

The lift came to a stop, but the doors didn't open. And the officer straightened, coming to attention - no, Ron realised, the man wasn't standing at attention - he was bracing himself. What for?

Suddenly, the man moved, whirling so his back was to the door, flailing his arms and kicking with his legs in quick succession, covering the entire cabin. Hermione barely managed to dodge one strike - Ron felt the air move as the giant hand barely missed them.

Had they been detected? Did they need to apparate? That would make noise, a noise the man would hear...

But then the officer stopped flailing around and straightened again, smoothing his uniform. He said something in Russian, and another voice answered in Russian. Then the doors of the lift opened, and the man strode out, Hermione quickly following him.

The Russians had protocols and routines for invisible stalkers. They had expected that, but to see it in action… Dumbledore hadn't exaggerated their paranoia.

On the other hand, was it paranoia if there really was someone after you who could turn invisible and teleport? He pushed the thought away and focused on the corridor they had just entered. It looked older than he had expected. Bare concrete, with some fixtures that looked antique - uncovered cables and pipes running along the ceiling, boxes of various colours and materials nailed to the walls, lighting that looked decades old and several cameras covering the corridor - the whole place seemed set up for maintenance workers and other employees who didn't rate a nice-looking office.

Ron didn't see anything that looked new - but was that just a cover? Leave the antique fixtures in place so intruders didn't notice the hidden installations? He was being paranoid as well, but then you had to be when dealing with the Russians.

The young officer had walked straight down the corridor, reaching a bulwark - no, an airlock. There was a second door, closed, behind the first.

Hermione didn't hesitate - she followed the officer inside. The door behind them closed more slowly than Ron expected - but that, too, might be camouflage. It locked in place behind them and Ron tensed. The ceiling here was new. Smooth, and a little lower than the corridor's - there would be enough space to install whatever the Russians wanted.

Then he heard the noise of a fan spinning up. A moment later, he felt a draft which quickly increased in strength. He felt Hermione tense as she fought to keep the broom steady against what felt like a whirlwind tearing at them, trying to suck them into and through the grate covering the air vent. What was the purpose of this? Were they sucking out all the air? Creating a vacuum? That would kill the officer! But if a sensor had detected them...

Breathing was becoming hard, and holding your breath in a forming vacuum was bad. He squeezed Hermione's shoulder a moment before the officer fell down, and she apparated with him and the broom.

They reappeared outside the Kremlin, and Ron gulped down air. "We must have been detected," he whispered.

"How? Radar? Infrared wouldn't work. Ultrasound or thermographic, maybe?" Hermione asked, panting.

"Or combined." That would be bad - the Russians wouldn't assume it was a sensor glitch if two or more sensors had detected them.

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 23rd, 2006**

"Indeed, I fear we have to assume that you were detected. I doubt that they got a good reading off you - but they will at least suspect that we are using miniature drones and take appropriate countermeasures," Dumbledore said.

"If they're hoping to jam them, that won't hinder us," Luna pointed out.

"We were too deep inside the Kremlin," Ron told her. "They'll assume it was an autonomous drone."

"Then they'll suspect the shadow government is behind this," Luna said. "Good. That will distract them from us."

"Unless they think we're part of the shadow government," wizarding Luna pointed out.

"They will suspect Albus either way," Luna retorted.

"But they won't suspect my presence in Russia," Dumbledore said. "Just a month ago, I wouldn't have been physically able to go on this mission."

"That won't change that they'll know we're in the area," Harry said. "Things just became far more dangerous."

Ron saw Hermione bite her lower lip - she was blaming herself. But it had been Ron's fault; he should have noticed the different ceiling before they entered the airlock. Hell, he should've suspected a trap as soon as he spotted the airlock. He sighed. "So… infiltrating while disillusioned and shrunken seems too dangerous now."

"Unfortunately, I must concur with that assessment." Dumbledore nodded. "Even adding more magical bugs might be too great a risk now."

"What can we do, then?" Ginny asked.

"We'll have to focus on the people. They are the key to this," Dumbledore said. "Not even Putin can keep all his guards and all his staff in a bunker below the Kremlin." He grinned. "Although he might make a very credible attempt, of course."

"But as we've seen," Ron pointed out, "whoever goes into the basement is thoroughly checked."

"Indeed, they are. But there are magical ways to deal with such scrutiny, are there not?" The old man smiled at Hermione.

"I thought you deemed Polyjuice Potion too dangerous since we would be expected to know passphrases."

"Indeed." His smile widened. "But now that they are looking for drones, I think hitching a ride on one of Putin's trusted staff might have become a valid alternative."

Oh. Ron's eyes widened. "Shrunken, disillusioned and using an Extension Charm, we could hide inside the smallest pocket!"

"Quite so." Dumbledore inclined his head. "Even frisking someone won't reveal us, as I recall from your bag's enchantments, Dr Granger."

* * *

**Moscow, Russia, January 24th, 2006**

Ron peered through the binoculars at the office. It wasn't quite dark yet, but the sun was setting, and the air quality in Moscow wasn't the best. They could have flown closer, but with the Russians now - probably - aware of miniature flying threats, that might not be advisable. Besides, they were still closer to the Kremlin than most of Ron's past surveillance tasks. Of course, on those surveillance tasks, he had usually been camped out in a flat. Not lying on a roof's railing while shrunk to the size of a small rodent. Or a big insect.

He focused on the job at hand. Wool-gathering wouldn't help anyone.

"That's Ivan Yahontov. Or a body double," he said. The man was supposed to be one of President Putin's trusted advisors, according to Dumbledore, though Ron had never heard of him. Nor had many outside the secret service - Yahontov was the sort of advisor who dealt with the clandestine, unsavoury affairs of Russia. Putin's 'Mann fürs Grobe', as Dumbledore had quoted Grindelwald.

"Talking to Lebedev's secretary?" Harry replied. "That seems unusual."

And Yahontov looked angry, from what Ron could tell. Sneering and glaring, if his body language was any indication.

"Lebedev is nominally in charge of procurement for the Kremlin's offices," Sirius pointed out. "They might have hidden some of their black ops budget there."

"Among office supplies?" Harry sounded doubtful. Very doubtful.

"Hey - you're a government employee; you should know how much money is spent on red tape!"

"I know that it's not enough to run clandestine missions on it," Harry shot back.

"According to our transcript, I think it's actually about the additional fixtures Mr Yahontov wants to be installed," Dumbledore cut in - he was not on the railing, but on the ground below. Somewhere. Ron still hadn't gotten used to everyone being invisible. Disillusioned. It should feel like having a conference call, but it didn't. Somehow. Dumbledore went on: "Apparently, they would put too much of a strain on the budget and the electric lines of the basement. Or so Mr Lebedev claims."

"Won't denying Putin get him deported to Siberia?" Ginny asked. "That's his security the man is delaying."

"President Putin usually reserves such punishment for political opponents and dangerous rivals," Dumbledore explained, "not for bureaucrats - as long as they aren't actively working against him. And Mr Lebedev has a lot of influence for a man in his position. However, whether he is guilty of that or not, I think we can assume that Mr Yahontov will visit his office again in either case."

"Or his goons will," Luna added, "dragging him into the basement's torture chamber while an accident is arranged."

That was a little too far even for Luna, in Ron's opinion.

"That is unlikely, I think, though not impossible," Dumbledore replied. "President Putin was already feeling threatened, but now, with an intruder - small as they were - detected so close to his citadel, so to speak, and then escaping without a trace? His patience and forgiveness might be in very short supply. And since I doubt that he spread the news about that to many outside his most trusted circle, Mr Lebedev might not be aware of it - or of the president's mood, though the latter is unlikely."

"Soulless bureaucrats like him usually know far more about their superiors' moods than their actual duties," Luna said.

"In any case," Harry cut in, "we expect Yahontov to enter that office again, sometime in the next few days."

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "It would behove us to prepare accordingly."

"Camping trip!" wizarding Luna exclaimed.

* * *

Looking around the top of the armoire in the secretary's office, Ron shook his head. This wasn't a camping trip. Even though, at their present size, the armoire was huge - its top large enough to house a dozen tents comfortably.

Not that they had a dozen tents. Just one. And not their wizarding tent with all the amenities. This tent, if you could call it that, was basically two pieces of cloth stuck together. More a sleeping bag than a tent, actually, even with the small pole that was propping up the opening. The Extension Charm Hermione had cast on the interior, though, at least allowed it to house the entire group without packing them in like sardines. More importantly, though, it could be both disillusioned and shrunk easily - and they'd need that more than the luxury the other tent provided. Even though it meant Ron usually had to feel around a bit to find the tent's entrance.

He sighed again and moved forward, to the edge, and looked down at the secretary. Now all they needed to do was to wait for Yahontov.

* * *

**Moscow, Russia, January 25th, 2006**

"There he is!" Ron whispered, watching the Russian enter the office. He quickly turned and sprinted back, towards the spot where the 'tent' was - but even after more than a day spent here, he still had to feel around for the entrance. Then he stuck his head inside. "He's here!"

"Get ready! Luna! Come on!" Hermione snapped as she jumped up from where she had been reading on the tent's floor.

"Alright!"

"Other Luna!"

"Oh."

Ron clenched his teeth as he crawled inside. He wanted to fly, but he didn't have as much experience as either Hermione or wizarding Luna. And he couldn't cast a Levitation Charm in a pinch. Still… he patted Hermione on the shoulder as she crawled past him, then nodded at wizarding Luna before both faded from view and he felt them crawl out of the tent.

As soon as they had left, he turned around and stuck his head outside. If he couldn't help, he at least wanted to watch. A moment later, he heard Harry behind him. "Tell us if it looks as if we'll have to fight."

He almost nodded, but Harry couldn't see him. "Yes," he whispered. Then the tent was lifted into the air - Hermione had cast her spell. And they flew towards the giant Yahontov, who was talking to the secretary again. The man sounded smug - Ron couldn't understand Russian, but he knew that tone.

He clenched his teeth, drawing a hissing breath as he suddenly plunged towards Yahontov's head - and felt slightly sick; his body wasn't feeling the same movement as his head was. What was Hermione aiming for?

The dive stopped a few inches above Yahontov's shoulder, then Ron felt a jerk and the tent moved again - slower this time. They cleared the man's shoulder just as Yahontov straightened, and Ron found himself in front of the man's chest.

Yahontov turned away, though, and his arm almost hit the tent - they barely cleared the huge appendage moving below them. As the Russian strode towards the door, Ron felt another jerk before they sped up and overtook the man, dropping down before the massive door to Lebedev's office - and then raced towards Yahontov's chest again.

Ron ducked into the tent an instant before the tent hit Yahontov, then stuck his head out again. He had to see.

What he saw was the door opening. He craned his neck - the tent was stuck to the chest pocket of the man's shirt. As planned.

Something touched his head. A hand - Hermione's? Or Luna's? He didn't care. He reached out, grabbing the arm and guided it to the edge of the tent's entrance. Or the pocket's, now.

He felt clothes - jeans - brushing over his face as the still unknown witch wriggled past him into the tent. Then the next hand touched him, on the shoulder, and he repeated his actions. And he recognised the fabric this time - it was Hermione's turtleneck.

Both were safely inside, then. Just in time to meet Lebedev. Which meant Dumbledore would be joining Ron any moment.

And here he was - Ron heard his breath as the old man took up a position next to him. Neither of them spoke, of course - that would have been bad, so close to Yahontov's ears, even though the Russian was speaking rather loudly.

Then again, at their shrunken size, any words spoken by a relative giant would sound loud to their shrunken ears.

Not that they were here to eavesdrop, anyway - they were here so they could get into Putin's bunker and scout it - though if they should happen upon Putin himself…

Lebedev and Yahontov spoke for a few minutes - or, rather, Yahontov spoke while Lebedev gave curt answers. The other man looked nervous, at least to Ron, while Yahontov was smiling - though from Ron's angle, it was hard to tell.

But, finally, Yahontov turned to leave and marched out, past the secretary without a further word. Now, would he head downstairs, into the basement? Or go outside? If Yahontov went outside, they could grab him and interrogate him - it would be dangerous, but it might get them the intel needed to plan the actual mission.

Yahontov didn't turn towards the exit. He stepped into the lift and went down again - the same route the officer had taken the other day. He didn't wave his hands around, Ron noticed - but the ceiling in the lift looked different. New. More sensors - ultrasound? Radar? Thermographic cameras? The Russians had reacted quickly, in any case.

But it wouldn't help them. They weren't flying any more - but invisible and stuck to Yahontov's shirt in an impossibly thin pocket.

He withdrew into the tent for a moment and whispered: "We're in the lift."

"Coming," he heard Hermione answer.

"Yes," wizarding Luna added before he stuck his head outside again.

Then it got a bit crowded at the entrance to the pocket. He could feel Hermione on his back, twisting a little as she looked around. The lift had stopped, and the doors slid back, revealing a long corridor - the same one Ron had seen before. But there were a few more boxes, mounted high on the walls.

Definitely more sensors, then. Probably some sentry guns as well, or something similar. Gas, perhaps? The Russians had experience with that, after all - and they wouldn't really care about a few intruders accidentally dying, as long as they were stopped.

They should have prepared their masks. Hermione also had a spell that could be used instead of a gas mask, not that either would work against nerve gas, but to depend on her for everything didn't feel right. Or safe. As Percy had once lectured at a family dinner, any process where a single point of failure could ruin everything was in need of improvement.

Yahontov walked quickly towards, then into, the airlock, and Ron tensed. If the Russians had added sensors in the lift and corridor, would they have added anything here? Gas remained an option, but would they risk Yahontov's health? Ron didn't think that Putin cared about common soldiers, but a trusted advisor? They probably wouldn't.

He still held his breath as the door closed behind the Russian. Then clenched his teeth when he heard the ventilation system roar. This time, though, the air pressure didn't seem to drop. It was just exchanging the air, then. And no alert rang out as the other door opened and they finally saw what lay beyond the airlock.

Another corridor, of course - but better furnished than the one leading here. No raw concrete walls here, but rather old fashioned wooden panelling. And more of those sensor boxes. He wanted to take one apart to see what they did, but there was no way to do that. Not at their present size.

Three more guards greeted Yahontov as he walked past them. They had gas masks on their hips, Ron noticed - so they definitely needed to account for gas in planning an intrusion.

They passed a few doors, all quite solid looking, and two alcoves with three guards each, before they reached another airlock at a T-junction where Yahontov used a retina scanner - no, an iris scanner - and a keypad to open the door. Quite sophisticated.

Four guards and a dog faced Yahontov inside the oversized airlock. After a perfunctory greeting - unlike the other guards they had passed - they frisked him thoroughly. Ron didn't see the whole procedure - they had to withdraw into the pocket when the guards' hands got close - but he'd also noticed a hand-held scanner being used, even though there had to be scanners in the wall or ceiling.

Putin wasn't taking any chance, then. Too bad that they had magic and he didn't.

Ron stuck his head out after thirty seconds - very carefully, of course; a single swipe by a giant hand could break his neck. The guards were still scanning Yahontov, but finishing up. And the dog was sitting on the ground. Good. Ron had been worried about the animal smelling them, but, apparently, the dog wasn't trained to bark at miniature people. He slid back and informed the others.

Hermione was back with him just in time to see the commander of the guard detachment order the door to open through an old-looking intercom. The door swung open, and Ron resisted the urge to whistle.

Behind the door wasn't a seventies-style bunker, but what looked like a modern office floor - a brightly lit, elegantly furnished corridor leading to several doors and intersections. Yahontov walked past the first few, none of them marked in any way, then knocked on the next door and entered. A female secretary sat behind an elegant desk, and two guards stood in front of a wooden door. No nameplate or sign - but Ron was sure it would be Putin's office.

He saw the two guards nodding at Yahontov, but then looking at the secretary before stepping out of his path. So, the woman - who had to be an FSB operative - had access to another scanner.

And then, finally, Yahontov opened the door - which was very thick, with the wall being even thicker - and there was Putin, sitting behind a massive desk.

Jackpot.

Then he saw the four armed guards, one in each corner, with weapons drawn. Good firing angles - only the desk would offer some cover from the two guards in the back. Unless it was trapped - which would fit Putin.

While the two men talked to each other, Ron looked around - it wasn't as if he understood Russian, after all. The office wasn't as opulent as he had thought. Not excessively spartan, but certainly much more functional than luxurious. That wasn't a good thing, of course. At least not for them. No luxuries meant fewer distractions for Putin. And less money spent on luxuries instead of defences.

And where would those defences be? He couldn't spot any obvious sensors, but there would be new ones. He just had to find them. He pulled his binoculars out and started studying the - currently - gigantic office, especially the walls and ceiling. There was a door behind Putin - probably leading to his private quarters. And Ron was sure that Yahontov wouldn't be invited in there.

He focused on sensors. Cameras that also included thermographic ones would be hidden in the ceiling. Multiple ones, covering the entire room and each other. Pressure plates on the ground, maybe? To spot invisible intruders? Or would the Russians go for the classic mundane countermeasures for invisibility? Flour spread on the ground, or paint guns? Paint guns, Ron decided. Flour was too ineffective. And they were expecting a technological device, not magic. Though if they expected some sort of space warping - or light warping - instead of some Predator-like suit, then paint wouldn't help much either.

He almost chuckled. What was he thinking? The Russians would use everything that might have a chance at working. And Putin would have an escape route ready. Or several.

And even if they were fast enough to grab him and disapparate, the other Russians would know. And they needed to interrogate Putin and wipe his mind without anyone knowing. Which meant finding out who was monitoring his office. And where.

Or… He studied the ceiling again. They didn't have to fool all the sensors if they managed to compromise the entire security system covering Putin's office. New systems. Recently installed. Under time pressure. The Russians wouldn't have been able to create a perfect network. They would have made mistakes. Cut some corners.

The sensors would be in the ceiling - easy to install a new fake one - and the floor. The carpet could be hiding a battery of sensors. The walls? Perhaps. Some of the wooden panelling could easily have been replaced.

But where would the sensors' feeds go? They wouldn't be using wireless. The threat of the network getting compromised, no matter how feasible that actually was, would be too high for someone like Putin. So lines, then. They would have added some cables when they built the bunker, but they wouldn't have expected the number of electronic devices a modern office needed. And big cable ducts would compromise the bunker. Although there were air ducts already. Still… one cable duct would handle most lines. To the secretary outside? No. Too obvious. She would be a target for any attacker - like traitorous guards. But there would be a cable duct to her office. So the cables leading to the security centre would be going through the secretary's office, but outside her reach.

Good. Ron was sure that breaking into the secretary's office would be easier than breaking directly into Putin's office.

Although… Putin would also have an ace of some sort up his sleeve. Some backup security system. Or just a guard waiting in his quarters and monitoring the office through another means.

Damn.

Yahontov and Putin had finished talking to each other, and the 'advisor' was now leaving the office.

The Russian quickly left - no checks this time, Ron noticed. No flirting with the secretary, which would have given them time to study this office in more detail. He did note that neither here nor in Putin's office were there any visible air ducts, though there were ventilation gaps in the ceiling. The fake ceiling. Where most of the sensors were hidden.

The air ducts would have filters and grates. And sensors of their own.

But they could use magic to deal with that.

Ron nodded, tracking the air ducts as Yahontov walked towards the exit. Yes, if they managed to get into the air ducts, they could probably access every room. He almost snorted again - it would be a little like in a spy movie, where the heroes crawled through air ducts to break into the villain's lair.

Well, the plan would need some refinement - but they would have time for that. They had to wait for a good opportunity to leave Yahontov, after all. Probably once he was back in his quarters or apartment.

Knowing where he lived so they could, if needed, apparate there would be helpful as well, anyway.

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 25th, 2006**

"The air ducts?" Harry didn't look like he agreed with Ron's plan. "They'll have filters there. And sensors. And they'll be prepared to stop drones and animals."

"They could suck us straight into a filter or grate - or worse," Hermione added.

"But we can deal with those obstacles," Ron retorted. "With magic, we can beat them. And once we're inside the fake ceilings, we can hack the security systems protecting Putin."

"I could deal with the cameras and other sensors," Luna said. "If I have access to their network."

"They might not have a network," Dumbledore pointed out. "The Russians would prefer separate systems so that the failure of one won't render the entire installation defenceless."

"So we track them all," Ron said. "We need to get to Putin where he won't be bothered for at least a couple hours, and that means his office or his home." And since Putin slept in the bunker these days...

"While I have to agree about the need to capture President Putin long enough to interrogate him, I don't think it will be easy to use the air ducts to infiltrate his bunker," Dumbledore told him. "However, I have to agree that after we were detected, although not identified, we cannot expect him to expose himself to danger outside his bunker any time soon."

"And he'll try to strike at us and take out the threat to himself," Sirius added. "The best defence is a strong offence. He did attack us already, after all."

"This is true," Dumbledore replied, nodding slowly. "But he might fall back on the KGB's old tricks and use assassination rather than another raid. My old opponents were very skilled at killing people through various means."

"We'll have to be wary of umbrellas," Ginny said with a forced grin. She was sitting even closer than usual to Harry, Ron noticed, and she was gripping his arm.

"It was actually the Bulgarian Secret Service that killed Georgi Markov with a poisoned umbrella tip," Dumbledore told her with a thin smile. "Although the KGB used the same playbook."

"Could we scare Putin into leaving the bunker?" Sirius asked after a moment. "A few more intrusions, perhaps leave some drones, and he might think that the bunker is compromised and flee."

"Would he have a fall-back hideout prepared?" Harry frowned. "And he would be likely to be heavily guarded while he travelled, so we couldn't kidnap him without being noticed."

"I think such a ploy would make President Putin more paranoid than he already is, and would likely lead to stricter security, thereby defeating its purpose," Dumbledore said. With a sigh, he added: "As much as I dislike it, I fear that Mr Weasley's plan is our best option."

Ron couldn't help but feel that took all the satisfaction out of having his plan approved.

"If we're doing this," Hermione spoke up, "then we'll need more help. And more supplies. We'll need to return to Britain for that."

"As expected," Dumbledore said. "This was, after all, a reconnaissance mission."

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 27th, 2006**

"You want to kidnap the president of Russia?" wizarding Harry blurted out. "That's your 'urgent problem'?"

"Blimey!" wizarding Ron added.

Hermione's so-called best friends didn't look happy, Ron noticed. Well, they had said they wanted to help with Hermione's problem, hadn't they?

"Technically, we aren't planning to kidnap him - we're planning to capture him in his office, interrogate him and then change his memory so he'll forget about us," Hermione told them.

Harry's counterpart frowned. "You know what I mean."

"Yes," Hermione admitted, sighing. "I know it sounds bad, but we have a plan, and we've scouted the place. But we need more help to actually carry it out. Putin doesn't know about magic, but he expects us to use Disillusionment Charms and Apparition."

"And small animals or drones," Ron added.

"Drones?" his counterpart asked.

"Remote-controlled cars or aeroplanes," Ron explained. "With cameras that you can see through."

"Or helicopters," Luna interjected. "Some are just the right size for shrunken people to ride in."

Hermione frowned at both of them. And, perhaps, at him as well. "In any case," she said, raising her voice a little, "we can't just apparate inside and stun him and his guards. We need to disable his security system first, so no one notices us. And that requires us to travel through the air ducts of the bunker."

"Like in a spy movie?" Wizarding Harry seemed to grin for a moment before turning serious again.

"Not exactly," Hermione told him.

"More like a discount version of Fantastic Voyage," Ron said. "Or Innerspace."

Hermione's friends didn't seem to be familiar with either movie, though. And she glared at him as if that was his fault. "We'll have been shrunk," she explained. "And we'll have to deal with a lot of obstacles."

"All without alerting the Russians to our presence," Luna cut in again.

"Ah." Wizarding Ron nodded.

His friend, though, looked sceptical. "How long will that take?"

"About a week, by my estimate," Hermione replied. "Maybe two at most - it depends on how quickly we find all the security systems."

"It'll be like an expedition," wizarding Luna added with a smile. "Just inside a giant - relatively speaking - building instead of a jungle or mountain. And without any magical beasts to discover."

"Well, we can ask for two more weeks off," wizarding Ron said. "It's not as if we've been taking long vacations. Certainly not this year."

"Ginny won't like it if I cancel our summer vacation," wizarding Harry pointed out.

Ron couldn't help glancing at his sister. She was frowning, as expected.

"Well, she'll understand, mate," his counterpart told him. "Especially if it's for Hermione." He suddenly blinked. "We could ask her to help us."

"No, she's finishing training for the second part of the season." Wizarding Harry shook his head.

"We still need someone to watch over our Healer," Ron said. "It's not that we don't trust him, just…" He shrugged. "Constant vigilance."

That made both wizards nod in agreement. "Well, if Ginny's out, then I think we'll have to ask Fred and George," wizarding Ron suggested. "Percy and Dad are too busy at the Ministry, and Charlie, Bill and Fleur are working abroad, but the twins can take a week or two off."

It looked like the laboratory would be taken over by Weasleys. Ron wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. He looked at Hermione.

She didn't seem to know the answer to that question, either. As long as they didn't meet their counterparts… He winced.

Swell.

But Hermione nodded. "I was planning to visit their shop, anyway."

* * *

"_...and this is our latest product: the Deadly Distraction!" Fred announced as he put a small ball down on the table._

"_What does it do?" Ron asked._

"_Rolls around, screaming like a banshee - though not as deadly, alas, we didn't manage to copy their power," George said._

"_But we're working on a Mandrake-powered version which should solve that," Fred added._

"_And after a set time, it explodes," George continued. "You can use a firework in it or a vial whose contents will be spread all around it. Or some Erumpent horn fluid if you want a really big explosion."_

"_We don't have much of the fluid, though," Fred said. "But we have a lot of fireworks and potions. And poisons."_

_Both wizards grinned at them. _

"_So, think you can use them?" George asked._

_Ron nodded emphatically - he was probably already thinking of ways to kill Death Eaters with them. _

_But she wasn't so sure. "What if you set them to explode and then needed to stop them?" she asked._

_The matching frowns on the twins' faces didn't fill her with confidence._

"_That would be bad," Fred said._

"_If you can't get away, then your best choice would be to destroy them or transfigure them into something else," George added._

"_We made them hard to hit, though," Fred admitted. "We're still working on a disillusioned version."_

_In other words, they hadn't planned for that. She didn't sigh, even though she wanted to. It was typical of them - the twins were brilliant at their craft, but they often failed to consider all the drawbacks of their products. "Well, if we need them for a distraction, we can simply use something harmless in them. Or nothing at all."_

_Their frowns deepened. "That would be a waste, though," Fred complained._

_This time, Hermione did sigh._


	54. Chapter 54: The Infiltration

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 54: The Infiltration**

**Black Lake, Scotland, January 28th, 2006**

"So this is the other world."

"The muggle world."

"I expected it to be bigger."

"Yes. It lacks a certain je-ne-sais-quoi."

"Oh, I don't know. For your first impression of a muggle world, I think an underground room with bare concrete walls is a nice touch."

"Definitely. Although, in that case, the entrance should be in the Hogwarts dungeons, to match."

"But that would mean that, sooner or later, some lost Slytherin will fall through the portal. Can you imagine that?"

"Oh, no! They'd die from all the muggleness!"

"But would that actually be a bad thing?"

"Not really, but we aren't supposed to say so. Not in public, at least."

Ron sighed. Wizarding Fred and wizarding George were really just like his own brothers. They were even dressed similarly - though not as stylishly as their counterparts. At least they weren't wearing robes. He glanced at Hermione, who had arrived with them. She was glaring at them.

"It's a good thing that you're running a joke shop. Your comedy routine leaves a lot to be desired," she told them.

"Oh, she's mad!" wizarding Fred said, cocking his head to look at his brother.

"Or just annoyed. We haven't been hexed yet, so I'm going with annoyed," wizarding George replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "This is the portal room. It's the key part of the laboratory you'll have to guard. There are defences in place, but they aren't undefeatable."

"I thought we mostly had to guard that Healer so he doesn't take over the place using the Dark Arts," wizarding Fred said.

"Yes. But I'm sure you can multitask."

"We were born to multitask, weren't we, George?"

"Of course, Fred!"

"I think the two of you were born to do the work of a single person - together," Ron said. "Just like my brothers." Fred and George had actually argued that they should only count as one person when it came to chores.

"Oh, did you use that line on our muggle versions?"

"Whom we still haven't met. Just saying."

"That's because they aren't here," Hermione told them. "This is a top-secret facility, and they don't have the clearance to visit."

"And _we _do?" The two exchanged an exaggerated glance.

"Yes." Hermione sighed. "We're trusting you with a secret that would endanger the lives of our families and ourselves should it get out."

Suddenly, the two wizards looked completely serious. That was almost unnerving for anyone who knew their counterparts. "We understand that," wizarding Fred said.

"It's like the war," his brother added.

Ah. That was the difference between them and Ron's brothers. Fred and George had never fought in a war. The closest they had come to violence had been listening to Harry and Ron's stories. Their counterparts, though, had fought in the war.

And they were already married and had a child.

"We still want to meet our counterparts, though. They already know about us."

"We'll see what we can arrange, once we've dealt with our current problem," Hermione said.

"Ah. The problem for which you needed our special stock!" wizarding Fred grinned. "The kind we reserve for another war. Or the Ministry."

"Yes." Hermione nodded.

"All to deal with muggles? That seems a little…" Wizarding George shrugged. Probably swallowed an insulting term.

"We're facing very clever and resourceful muggles who expect invisible enemies who can teleport," Ron told them with a frown. They looked a little confused.

"They don't know about magic, but expect us to use a muggle version of Disillusionment Charms and Apparition," Hermione clarified.

"Ah."

"Why didn't you say so?"

Ron grinned. "Just to confuse you."

"Ah."

"Well, you did grow up with our counterparts."

Hermione cleared her throat. "So, let me show you the rest of the laboratory and the quarters you will have to guard - and where you can stay while we're away. Remember: Don't be seen outside."

"Don't go outside at all," Ron interjected.

He knew his brothers, after all. Although he was almost sure that wizarding Fred and George wouldn't heed him.

Hermione frowned at him but didn't comment. He took that as agreement. "Afterwards," she said, "we'll go over the items you've brought."

"Oh, you'll love them! We've perfected a number of our prototypes!" Fred beamed at her.

Ron had the sudden feeling that this would be more like a weapons show than anything else. And then his stomach sank when he realised that Dumbledore and Grindelwald would be attending the show.

If they decided to launch a joint venture or gave the twins ideas…

Ron couldn't decide if that prospect was scarier than his brothers teaming up with their counterparts.

* * *

"Dumbledore! And Mr Grindelwald!" The two wizards sounded far too happy to meet the two old men in the lounge. With his and Harry's counterparts visiting their families, it wasn't as crowded as it could've been, but it was still packed. "And Gin-Gin's double! And Harry's double! And Sirius's!"

"Please call me Albus," Dumbledore replied while Ginny bared her teeth. Harry and Sirius nodded with friendly smiles, but Grindelwald's was rather curt. "Thank you very much for volunteering to help guard the portal," the old spymaster went on.

"Call us Fred and George. Of course we'll help out!" Wizarding George smiled widely.

Dumbledore nodded at Rosengarten. "This is Healer Rosengarten."

"Good evening," the Healer said.

Everyone shook hands.

"Hello!" wizarding Fred greeted the Healer. "You're the Yank, right?"

Ron winced. Unless wizarding Fred was very different from Ron's brother, he knew how to be polite and what not to say.

"I'm actually British, but I spent most of my life in the New World." Rosengarten sounded slightly tense.

"And now you're in a real new world!" wizarding George said. "What an adventure, right? You're the… fifth wizard to make the trip, by my count."

"Which makes us the sixth and seventh," wizarding Fred added. "Lucky numbers."

"Well, mine was. Yours is just… common," his brother told him.

Wizarding Fred scoffed. "Six is two times three."

"I see you haven't forgotten how to count."

"And you didn't take Arithmancy."

Ron sighed loudly. As expected, the twins ignored him.

"Please sit down and help yourself to some refreshments and snacks," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the spread on the table. The old man hadn't spared any expense, Ron noted - delicacies of all kinds had been prepared. "I've heard very impressive things about your business," Dumbledore went on and raised his glass. "To success."

That was a toast everyone could drink to, of course.

"Good to hear," wizarding George said. "Hermione loved our products. As did everyone else."

"Other than the Death Eaters," his brother added. "And soon the Russians."

That made Dumbledore raise an eyebrow and glance at Hermione.

"I had to tell them the environmental conditions in which we might have to operate," she said with a frown.

"Figuring out that it was Russia afterwards was easy." Wizarding Fred grinned.

"Russia's the only country that matches those conditions and has the means to strike at Britain," George explained. "Dad agreed when we asked."

"Still an impressive deduction," Dumbledore said, tilting his head with a smile.

"You're too kind!"

"Could you tell that to our Mum? She might believe you!"

Dumbledore chuckled at that.

Grindelwald, though, sighed loudly. "We'd rather not be involved in Weasley family affairs."

"Oh, you've met Mum's counterpart?" wizarding Fred grinned again.

"She was quite vocal about the risks we've taken," Dumbledore said.

Ron frowned - he must have missed that particular talk. But it fit Mum, of course. Dad, too, now that he thought about it.

"Anyway, you've got magic items?" Grindelwald leaned forward, putting his glass down - he had barely sipped from his excellent wine.

"Oh, do we!" Wizarding Fred nodded rapidly at his brother, who reached inside his coat and started to pull out several things.

"We've perfected the Deadly Distractions. We've got the full range of options for the payload," wizarding George said.

"And we've increased the power of our fireworks as well!" Fred grinned. "Now you can pack a whole show into a single rocket!"

"We are more interested in not being seen," Ron said, ignoring the snort that comment earned from Ginny and Harry. And the guffaw from Sirius.

"We've got that covered as well! Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder!"

Ah, good. That powder had saved Ron's life - he certainly wouldn't forget about it.

"Do you have a Hand of Glory as well?" Hermione asked.

"Unfortunately, the Ministry frowns on creating such items," wizarding George told her. "And a criminal's hand is in short supply, anyway."

"We tried to use racoon paws, but it didn't work out," his brother said with a shrug. "But we've also got Muggle-Repelling Marbles. Muggles won't go near them - they've got a Muggle-Repelling Charm on them that activates whenever they touch the ground."

"That will certainly help us," Ron said with all the sarcasm he could muster.

"Well… we didn't exactly develop them for muggles." George smiled at him and tilted his head to the side. "Sorry."

His brother coughed. "What about a box of bugs? Put it down and open it, and a few seconds later - instant swarm of a bug of your choice!"

Not something Ron would want to use while shrunken. Not at all.

"And here! Pestering Parakeets! They can mimic any voice you pick. Or Marauding Mice? They'll plunder any food in the room. Or house. Just the thing if you need a non-obvious distraction!"

"We made Ranging Rats first, but they didn't sell as well. We've got some for you, though."

"And Stunning Spiders!"

Ron was starting to wonder if the two wizards had wanted to open a pet shop instead of a joke shop.

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, January 29th, 2006**

They picked another building this time - an abandoned barn on former agricultural land that, according to Dumbledore, had been acquired by an oligarch for his private use in the nineties. Apparently, the barn had been left standing for nostalgic and aesthetic reasons. There was no matching farmhouse nearby, though. Not even ruins. Why would anyone put up a barn by itself?

Ron didn't really care. As long as it protected the trunk from being picked up by the Russian surveillance, it was fine with him. It wasn't as if they would be spending much time outside, anyway. Not with the Muggle-Repelling Charm keeping nosy neighbours or passers-by, as well as anyone who left the barn, away.

He went down into the trunk, then entered the wizarding tent - a new one with more rooms since they had more people on this mission. If it had been his decision, he wouldn't have taken everyone with them. Well, he would've left Ginny behind. But she was the fittest and the most skilled in martial arts. And had been on all their other missions at this point, so trying to argue against letting her come would have been futile and only caused trouble for no gain.

Mum would still be furious once she heard about it, but that was a problem for another day.

This tent had an entrance hall - there was even a fireplace here, which, theoretically, could be connected to the Floo Network. If there were such a network in this world. And if they wanted to let others know about them.

He passed the crate with additional supplies stashed near the entrance - and didn't a house having a tent flap as an entrance look weird from this side? - and entered the living room.

Sirius was there, reading a magazine. "Harry and Ginny are cooking dinner," he told Ron without being asked. "Dumbledore is going over the latest transcripts. The Lunas are… probably plotting something in their room. Hermione is with your and Harry's counterparts in the laboratory, going over the magic items."

"Thank you." To the laboratory, then. "The barn's clear," Ron said.

"But cold," Sirius commented.

"Of course."

"Invading Russia is always a bad idea. Invading it during winter even more so."

"We aren't exactly invading," Ron replied. Was Sirius having second thoughts?

"I know. Just trying to lighten the mood."

Ron nodded, smiled briefly and headed to the laboratory. Hermione and her two friends were sorting through potions, as expected, but all three were looking at him when he opened the door. "Hey." He grinned at her. "Have you sorted out who gets which magic items? If you haven't, I can lend you my dice."

"More or less," Hermione replied with a smile and a short chuckle.

"Dice?" Ron's counterpart asked.

"In my D&D group, we usually had to roll dice when splitting the loot," Ron explained.

"Ah." Apparently, wizarding Harry was familiar with role-playing games. Well, he had grown up in a muggle family.

Wizarding Ron still looked lost.

"It's a muggle game where you play fantasy heroes - like wizards. And you get magic items, which are usually split among the players," Ron told him.

"Not real magic items," Hermione interjected. "It's all pretend."

"I knew that," Ron's counterpart said. He sounded a little miffed.

"So, everyone gets healing potions?" Ron changed the subject.

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "A full range, so everyone will be able to treat wounds on themselves or others. Also a shrinking potion, just in case."

"We didn't bring invisibility cloaks," wizarding Ron said. "They're a little hard to get, even for Aurors like us. And people would wonder why we needed them. The same goes for Portkeys."

"They wouldn't work here, anyway, since they won't transport you across dimensions," Hermione added.

Which meant that her friends didn't know how to make Portkeys either, Ron deduced. Or didn't know how to make Portkeys that could be activated easily in a pinch. "What about the other things the twins gave us?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "That's where it gets complicated."

"And dangerous," wizarding Harry added.

"Ah." Ron nodded. He understood the sentiment - a number, higher than he had expected, of the things the twins had presented had sounded quite dangerous for the user. Like handing out hand grenades to people who had no training with them.

"Well, we shouldn't need most of it, anyway," wizarding Ron said. "Not if the plan works out. Five muggles against us?"

"We only have four wands," Hermione pointed out. "We'll have to take them out all at once before they can sound an alarm. We can't just apparate into the office and cast Stunning Spells."

"I said most of it, not all of it, didn't I?" Wizarding Ron grinned. "A few things from the Deadly Distractions should do the job."

"As long as they don't take us out alongside the targets," Ron said. He was sure he had the same idea as his counterpart.

* * *

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 30th, 2006**

Ron shook his head. Even after he had undergone Side-Along Apparition dozens of times, the experience remained decidedly unpleasant. "There are no cameras I could see," Hermione told him.

"Nor did we find anything," he heard his counterpart say. All of them, including himself, were disillusioned, so he couldn't see anyone.

"Alright." He looked round. They were inside an air duct. At their present size, it looked like a large tunnel. A tunnel with a strong wind, of course.

"We flew to the grate, looked inside and apparated," she went on. "It seems they didn't install sensors that can detect us at our current size."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see him. "Let me check."

He went over the area - from the grate covering the office intake to the grate where the air filter was installed. He didn't find any bugs or hidden sensors, either - and even shrunken, his detector should work.

"Alright, seems we're good here," he told them.

"We'll set up around the corner, out of sight of anyone peering through the grate," wizarding Harry said.

"Follow me," Ron heard Hermione say a moment before her hand touched his back, then roamed until she found his shoulder, arm and hand. Gripping it, she pulled him round the corner and finally ended the spell on him. As he faded into view, so did the others.

He forced himself to smile. He hated being so dependent on her. Wizarding Fred and George had given them a truckload of magic items, but none that would allow Ron to spot disillusioned people.

"I'll fetch the others and the trunk," Hermione said before disapparating.

"So, we got in just fine," his counterpart commented.

"Yes." Ron studied the filters. Nothing high-tech. He couldn't spot any wires, either, that would react to part of it being cut. They could be hidden, of course - but the air duct didn't look like it had been replaced. Still, better have Luna check.

"I would've wanted to start closer to the goal," wizarding Ron went on.

"The closer we are, the higher the chance that they'll have installed more sensors," Ron told him. "And magic only goes so far," he added with a tight smile.

His counterpart scoffed but didn't try to contradict him. They had gone over this before, in the trunk. Even with magic, they couldn't rush things.

Hermione reappeared, dropped the shrunken trunk on the ground and opened the lid. "We're here!"

"Finally!"

A moment later, Luna climbed out of the trunk. "Wow! This will make scanning for bugs so easy! Like looking for camouflaged tanks in the woods!"

"I've already scanned," Ron told her.

"Yes, but it won't hurt if I do it again," she replied with a grin. "Better safe than sorry."

He rolled his eyes. That was payback for his own behaviour back when they had been a couple, and he had been fresh out of Moody's training. For all her seemingly flighty attitude, Luna didn't forget much.

He watched her scan the area carefully as the others climbed out of the trunk.

"Ah, finally we can stretch our legs," Sirius said.

"There's more room inside the tent than outside here," Harry pointed out.

"Should've installed a fitness room if you want to be able to stretch your legs," Ginny added.

"Excellent idea, though I fear that it's a little too late for this mission." Dumbledore was the last to climb out, Ron noticed.

"Alright, this section of the Kremlin's air ducts is safe," Luna announced.

"And there are no Rapacious Dust Mite nests," wizarding Luna added. "There shouldn't be any, but better safe than sorry, right?"

That wasn't an accident. Ron nodded but didn't react any further to the comment. "Let's get through the filter," he said.

"Right!" Luna pulled a thin stick out of her bag. "I'll check the other side!"

She stuck the stick through the filter - it punched a hole through the fabric despite its size, but that wouldn't register - and then connected goggles to it. "Oh… lots of dust. More dust. It doesn't look like they changed the filters recently."

Which meant they hadn't upgraded the filter recently, either. Good.

"I'm through! Let's look for cameras now!" Luna went on. After a minute, she said: "I don't see any cameras or other surveillance devices. No bugs, electronic, or otherwise." She handed the goggles to wizarding Luna. "Look round!"

The witch didn't take long before handing the goggles back. "Alright - we'll be right back!"

Wizarding Luna flicked her wand, and both of them faded from view. Then Ron heard the familiar noise of Apparition.

Five minutes later, they returned. "There's nothing in the second section," Luna announced.

Ron nodded. Time to move up, then.

As expected, it would take them a while to reach Putin.

* * *

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, January 31st, 2006**

"Alright… it looks like another camera, a laser and… oh! A heat sensor! And something I think is a chemical sensor," Luna said without removing the goggles linking her to the camera of her probe.

"Any pressure plates?" Ron asked. Two sections had featured pressure plates so far, leading to a much more complicated advance, but they were easy to spot - at least at their current size.

"No," Luna replied. "The floor is undisturbed."

"The camera and the laser aren't a problem," Harry said. "But the heat sensor? That's tricky."

"Only if it's calibrated to detect lower temperatures as well - which I don't think it is." Luna shook her shoulders, her head not moving.

"Block them with a wall of ice?" Ron asked.

"Exactly! They won't register our body heat at all!" Luna said.

"What about the chemical sensor?" Hermione said. "Can we seal it up? Or perhaps a Bubble-Head Charm? That would only let clean air get to it, and we wouldn't have to worry about our scent - or our carbon dioxide."

"I don't think it's sensitive enough to pick up the scent of a human," Ron pointed out. "Because it would probably react to anyone's scent - like Putin's." The size difference was huge, after all.

Hermione nodded. "That's right. They're probably here to identify gases and possibly biological agents."

"Or lubrication oil from machines," Harry added. "Do they look new?"

"No, they even have a little dust on the side," Luna told him.

"Basic defences against assassination, then," Harry concluded.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "While, to my knowledge, no such attempt was ever made, no such thing can be said for plans to do so. Our American colleagues were nothing but inventive, if not entirely practical, when it came to such things."

It wasn't paranoia if they really were out to get you. And, Ron had to admit, they were about to get Putin. They were close to his office, now. And according to the transcripts Dumbledore was now checking almost constantly, Putin hadn't left the bunker, nor was he planning to do so.

In theory, he could've had himself replaced with a body double, but… Ron thought that, in that case, there would have been some changes in the Kremlin's procedures which they would have noticed. Still, it couldn't be ruled out - though they would find out for sure soon enough. Or so Ron hoped.

"The cameras will spot the wall of ice," wizarding Harry pointed out. "We'll have to disillusion it before moving it to the heat sensor."

"Let me see how things are laid out," Ron's counterpart said, crouching down next to Luna.

This was wizards' work, Ron told himself. He could help plan what to do, but he couldn't cast the spells.

Wizarding Ron studied the next section for a while, then handed the goggles to his friend. "I think we can do it - the camera can't cover the area directly below itself."

"Yes," wizarding Harry agreed, "but we need to conjure the wall in two pieces. Otherwise, it'll be too tall."

"Right. Do you want to handle it?"

Wizarding Harry nodded. "I'll do it." He drew his wand and waved it around. Ron saw the man's lips move but didn't hear any words. Did that count as silent casting? Or almost silent casting?

He chuckled at his own weak joke and walked over to Hermione.

"They won't take long," she said.

"Better not rush it," he told her. If they were detected, their best shot at getting to Putin would be lost.

"Yes," wizarding Luna agreed. "We can take our time. This is like an expedition with Daddy. Unexplored terrain and unknown dangers! Well, Daddy isn't here, we're much more than just two people, we're in the muggle world and we're not looking for magical creatures but a muggle criminal, but we're planning a catch and release, so it's quite similar anyway."

Ron couldn't help smiling even as he snorted.

"And we're striking a blow against fascist tyranny," Luna added.

"We're not going to alter his mind with regards to his policies," Hermione told Luna.

"Why not? If we're already changing his memories we could do so much more!"

"Or trigger a coup and make things worse," Hermione retorted. "Manipulating his mind so he'll forget about us is already dangerous; trying to make him change further will be too much."

Luna sniffed. "He wouldn't be a great loss for the world. Quite the contrary."

"That may be so, but it's just too dangerous to meddle with his mind more than we absolutely must." Hermione was digging her heels in, but so was Luna.

Ron shook his head. "We haven't even reached his office, much less secured him. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"We can't exactly decide this when we've got him," Luna protested. "We need to settle this now."

It was clear what kind of solution she favoured. And what Hermione favoured.

"We can discuss it once we take a rest for the night," Ron said.

Perhaps Dumbledore would be able to convince Luna that they couldn't mind-control Putin even more than planned. Ron clenched his teeth. The old man likely would be able to - but would he want to?

This was a serious problem.

* * *

"Well, I have to admit that there certainly is an opportunity to not only solve our own problem but also to right a few global wrongs, so to speak." Dumbledore smiled across the dinner table at Luna.

"Yes! We can do so much good if we rearrange his memories!" Luna said enthusiastically.

Ron clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. He couldn't lose his temper, not over this - he had expected it, after all.

"The risks are too great," Hermione retorted. "Even manipulating his memory regarding us will be a challenge."

Ron nodded. Coming up with a good cover story that would explain the attacks, but make Putin stop coming after Hermione had been tricky. Ron still wasn't convinced that 'revolutionary weapons research revealed to have been a ploy to flush out spies' wasn't a little too convoluted - but Dumbledore had reassured them that it would fit right in with a number of spy operations he and his Russian counterparts had pulled off during the Cold War. The old man was convinced that Putin, who had grown up during the same era, would accept it. 'Using his own paranoia against him', he had called it.

It wasn't as if Ron had been able to think of anything better. Now, if they wanted to, they could even use the same cover story at home, but mind wiping members of the government might be going a little too far even for Dumbledore, so Ron hadn't mentioned that idea yet.

"What's the worst that could happen? He loses his mind?" Luna's exaggerated shrug showed how little she cared about that.

"Well, President Putin does have control over a considerable nuclear arsenal," Dumbledore pointed out.

Ron noted that Sirius had paled and spilt some of his wine. "A crazy Russian with nukes - just what we need."

Luna was pouting. "He's under constant surveillance; if he has a mental breakdown, the other members of his government will step in and remove him from power."

"I would concur with that assessment, although that's only if it's an obvious mental breakdown," Dumbledore said. "If it happens slowly and subtly…" He tilted his head as he trailed off.

"We cannot predict how such things will happen," Hermione said with a frown.

"Yes," wizarding Ron added. "Even the Healers at St Mungo's have trouble sorting out brains."

"Well, wiping his entire mind is easy," wizarding Luna told them. "That would avoid that danger." She wrinkled her nose. "Although that would also mean we couldn't make him change some of his policies." She perked up. "We could do that, and then work on his successor!"

Ron winced. That sounded even worse. "I don't think we should try to take over Russia - or any other country," he said.

"Why not?" wizarding Luna asked. "If we can do it better?"

"We wouldn't take over the country," Luna added. "We would just correct some mistakes. More money for education, less money for the military, for example. More care for the environment. More democracy. More rights for minorities."

"Just a few corrections," Harry said with a snort.

"Exactly," Luna replied with a nod.

"I don't think so - the risk is too great," Hermione said with a glare. "Not to mention that someone would have to keep an eye on the Russian president for the rest of their time in office, just in case they have a mental breakdown as a result of such manipulation. And that would mean no more expeditions - and no saving the rainforests."

Wizarding Luna gasped. "You're right! We can't do this by ourselves!"

Luna didn't look convinced, though. She wasn't the witch of the pair, but if she worked on her counterpart... Ron sighed and looked at her. "Luna, if you do this, you'd basically be running the country. You'd have absolute power over Russia. You wouldn't have to answer to anyone, no matter who gets elected as president. No accountability. Sure, you want the best for everyone, but..." He shrugged.

She glared at him in return and huffed, crossing her arms. She knew exactly what he meant - she had told it to him often enough.

Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Ron didn't smile even though he was relieved. But smiling would have been rubbing it in, and Luna deserved better.

"Shall we eat dinner now?" Dumbledore, of course, did smile, as usual.

* * *

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 1st, 2006**

"Can you see it?"

"Yes. There's a red cable on the outside."

"Yes. Can you tap it?"

"Of course. I just need to reach it."

"Alright. I'll widen the hole."

"Good. But not too wide - we don't want the thermal sensor picking up our body heat."

"Of course not. Bubble-Head Charm still good?"

"Yes."

"Goody! And now: Evanesco! Here goes… nothing! More nothing. Can you reach the cable now?"

"Yes. Thank you. Now let's see how best to deal with this cute little trap. Oh! That's clever!"

Ron clenched his teeth as he listened to the two Lunas deal with the last obstacle in the air ducts before they reached Putin's office. It was bad enough that he couldn't see them behind the grate - well, he wouldn't have seen them even if he were right next to them - but to listen to two pretty much identical voices while they were risking their lives… Hell, this was worse than torture.

"They'll be OK," he heard Hermione say before he felt her grab his hand.

"Yes," he replied - though he wasn't as sure as he claimed. The Russians had secured the air ducts as if they were expecting them, instead of fragile, dumb drones. It had taken them a full day to get to this point, and Ron had felt like they were clearing mines for most of it.

"Luna knows what she's doing. The other Luna too," wizarding Ron said as if that weren't obvious.

Ron sighed and forced himself to remain calm. They were almost there. Almost at - or in - Putin's office. Just one particularly dangerous obstacle left.

"Oh… I think that's a bomb. Well, a small charge, but at our size, it's a bomb," Luna said. No, wizarding Luna.

What? Ron blinked.

"Let me see!"

"Here."

"Oh, right. That's a charge, yes," Luna said. "Can you deal with it?"

"Oh, yes." A moment later, he heard her say: "There! It's now a pudding charge!"

"Oh, nice!"

"Don't eat it, though."

"I'm not planning to. Alright… let me set up the bypass and splice this…"

Ron sighed again as Luna started mumbling. This was nerve-wracking. Worse than trying to defuse a bomb yourself.

"Alright, we're done!" Luna announced. "You can widen the hole now, Luna."

"Evanesco!"

Finally!

Hermione sighed as well and waved her wand in the now extremely familiar motions of the Disillusionment Charm aimed at Ron. She repeated the motions and faded from view herself. Then Ron felt her hand grab his own again, followed by the sensation of being squeezed through a narrow pipe.

Then he stood inside the air duct the Lunas had cleared, looking through the hole into the space between the real and the fake ceiling of Putin's office. Where dozens more sensors and cameras had been installed. Dealing with that would take a while.

At least they wouldn't have to deal with any insects or other animals - those would have immediately set off the sensors.

* * *

"OK! Drag the line over here!"

"Alright." Ron took a deep breath and lifted the cable - which was quite heavy - and walked over to where Luna was pointing.

"We can tap into this line!" she told him. "Just set it down here, I'll splice it in."

He did so.

"How's the computer doing?" she asked without looking up from her work.

He turned to look back. Next to the tent, in the spot that the cameras here didn't cover, Harry and Sirius were, under Hermione's guidance, pushing around a miniature computer that had the relative size of a large armoire for the shrunken team. Behind them, an even bigger portable screen floated. And the keyboard under the screen dwarfed both.

"They're working on it."

"OK!"

Luna finished splicing the cables together and stood. "This should work. Now we need the batteries for the computer."

Ron nodded and followed her back to the tent. A few spells later, a stack of batteries - now the size of artillery shells - was on the ground next to the computer while Hermione and her wizard friends were trying to push them into a grid or something to power the computer and screen.

Ron used the opportunity to look at the computer. The keyboard next to it was gigantic - it had keys the size of dinner plates. It looked so absurd, he chuckled and shook his head.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, no, Luna," he was quick to assure her. "I just think it looks funny."

"Oh, it is funny," she replied. "And using it will be fun as well! Like a game of twister!"

"I think it's more like a game of hopscotch," wizarding Luna said. "We used to play that with the muggle children in the village. Me and Ginny - my Ginny."

Luna wrinkled her forehead. "Indeed. We'll probably have to jump to put enough pressure on some of the keys."

"We?" Ron asked.

"Well, you and the others - it would take too long if I had to push every key myself," Luna explained. "We'll need everyone covering a few keys, so we can type quickly."

"Jump-type," wizarding Luna added with a grin.

"Ah." He nodded.

"We wanted to use magic, but Hermione said the risk of affecting the computer was too high," Luna said.

"I'm not sure if I agree - we're not using wards - but better safe than sorry, right?" Wizarding Luna beamed at him. "Besides, it'll be fun!"

* * *

Well, it was fun at the start. But after an hour, Ron was heartily tired of jumping on keys on command. After two hours it was simply tiring, rapidly approaching exhausting. But it was the only way to hack the Russian system - they couldn't hook up a shrunken computer, and using a wireless protocol would trigger an alarm.

"A...N...D," Luna said.

Ron sighed and jumped on "A". While Harry jumped on "N", Ron moved past "S" to "D", then jumped on that key.

"X"!

Ron jumped on the next key.

Then Luna rushed over to the cursor keys and started jumping wildly before stepping on the enter key. "And… done! The script's running! Now we just have to wait!" she announced.

Ron wasn't the only one who sighed with relief.

But Hermione looked a little out of it. Another flashback?

* * *

"_We just have to wait," she heard Ron say. "Sooner or later, he'll come home."_

"_And we're ready for them," Harry added._

_She wasn't as optimistic. And she didn't like waiting - not when it meant lying in ambush. In someone's home. Melchior Smith's home, to be exact. The man wasn't a Death Eater, perhaps not even a sympathiser - though he was working for the Ministry, and should know better - but he _was _an acknowledged specialist in runes and rituals. And they needed his knowledge to deal with Harry's scar. Without killing Harry, of course._

_And Smith, a distant relative of Zacharias Smith's, was not only good but also lived in a house that wasn't too heavily warded for them to break in without being noticed. There were other scholars who had better protected homes. She would have preferred to go after the best, but… they couldn't risk alerting the Ministry to their plans._

_So, Smith it was. She sighed. Then she gasped - the fireplace had just lit up. And the flames were turning green._

"_He's coming!" she hissed, aiming her wand. Her friends, disillusioned like she was, were spreading out - she could see the markers above them moving._

_Then a figure stepped out of the fireplace, followed by another._

_And neither was Smith._


	55. Chapter 55: The President

Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. Their help is invaluable.

* * *

**Chapter 55: The President**

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 1st, 2006**

"Hey!" Ron touched Hermione's shoulder. "Everything OK?"

She took a few deep breaths. "Yes. Just remembered a similar situation."

"Oh?"

"It didn't end well." She sighed before going on: "We wanted to kidnap a Ministry employee. We broke into his home, but he was away. So we prepared an ambush. But he didn't return - instead the Aurors visited."

"Are you talking about Smith?" Wizarding Ron butted in. "Yeah, that was a bloody mess."

Eloquent, Ron thought.

"We did take out the two Aurors who entered the flat through the fireplace, but they must have had backup - we found ourselves trapped in the building and had to fight our way out."

"Yeah." Ron's counterpart nodded. "If they had known who we were, we would've been dead. But they thought we were common burglars, and so didn't have enough wands to take us."

"Well, that's one theory," Hermione said.

The wizard grinned. "It's the truth - we checked with the survivors afterwards, you know." He shrugged.

"And what happened to Smith?" Hermione asked.

"He vanished." Wizarding Ron looked grim for a moment. "Taken down to the Department of Mysteries and never heard of again. Rookwood was in charge of the Department."

"I know that."

"Well, yes. He'd purged it when Voldemort took over. Killed any sympathisers who didn't manage to escape. Probably old rivals as well, and hired more Death Eaters to fill the ranks. The ones who stayed… well, they didn't mind Voldemort's new policies. Most liked them." The wizard had a grim expression. "They could do any and all experiments they wanted."

Ugh. Ron had a good idea of what sort of people had stayed on. And what sort of experiments they would have conducted.

"Clearing them out was a real mess."

Hermione nodded curtly.

"Well, let's hope that this mission goes better," Ron said after a few seconds of silence. "Wouldn't want to capture a body-double."

"I doubt that it's a body-double," Hermione replied. "It's too busy in the office for that."

"Dumbledore said that the Russians would go to great length in their deceptions." And not just the old spymaster - Ron had heard the same from Moody.

"But to set up an entirely fake set of offices?" Hermione shook her head. "And have everyone play along? Department heads, politicians, every single staff member? Never break character? I don't think so. That's no way to run a government."

Ron shrugged. He did actually agree with her, but the possibility of this being a very long con - a trap - remained. "We'll find out the truth soon enough."

"Not quite that soon."

Ron turned and saw that Luna was walking towards them. "We have a few hours until my program's finished, and we still need to find the secondary and tertiary surveillance systems."

"You said you had a way," Hermione reminded her.

"I do." Luna smiled. "But it requires climbing down a shaft. A cable shaft, to be exact."

"And Harry and I are the most experienced in climbing down shafts," Ron said with a wry smile.

"Harry and I could float down," his counterpart offered. "Levitate our clothes. We've done it before."

"Without triggering a sensor?" Hermione asked. "Even if the spells themselves are fine - or should be; we haven't tested them with Russian electronics and we haven't been able to isolate a point after which magic starts affecting electronics, nor do we know how to quantify it in the first place - there wouldn't be any room for error."

Ron smiled politely as the other Ron frowned. Couldn't solve everything with magic, could you?

Of course, it meant that he would be spending a few hours climbing down cable shafts and hoping he didn't step on some shoddy Russian work and get electrocuted. Zapped like a bug.

He suppressed the shudder at that idea. He just had to be careful and take it slow. No need to rush.

* * *

So much for rappelling, Ron thought as he stared down the shaft.

"The Russians obviously never thought of cable management," Luna, standing next to him, commented.

"Yes," Ron agreed. Instead of being neatly bundled together, all the cables in the shaft were loose. And from what he could see, it seemed that a number of cables had been too long and, at various points, the excess length had been stuffed into the shaft.

Great. This felt more like caving than climbing. Well, someone had to do it, and Harry's shaft didn't look any better either.

He checked once more that his harness was sitting correctly, smiled at Hermione and Luna and started climbing down. At least he wouldn't lack opportunities to secure his descent.

* * *

As it turned out, Ron did more squeezing through small spaces than climbing as he went down. There were a lot of cables and not much space. He also had trouble in some spots with the cable he was dragging along behind. Overall, it was far more tiring than rappelling down would have been - and he would have to climb up again, instead of letting the others pull him up.

But it also made finding the feed from the secondary sensors easy - the additional cables completely blocked the shaft. He took a few deep breaths, then looked at the opening for those cables. He would be able to pass through it - if he pulled off his climbing harness. Well, there was no choice - he had to know what this cable was connected to.

Shimmying out of the straps was harder in the narrow space here, but he managed. Then it was just a - albeit claustrophobia-inducing - crawl on top of the cables and he reached a sensor. A camera. Multiple modes - he knew the model; Japanese. Good quality, but too expensive for CI5's budget even though it came out ahead in testing.

And it had a free socket for another cable. Unfortunately, not the kind of cable he had brought with him. For once, the Russians hadn't gone with a proprietary solution and so he had dragged their stupid special cable along for nothing.

Ron sighed. Now he'd have to go up and down again.

* * *

"You should've let Ginny do it."

Ron, lying in their bed, didn't open his eyes at Hermione's words. "She wouldn't have let me forget it, ever," he said. "Let her do it for Harry."

Hermione snorted, and he felt her sit down on the bed next to him. "Typical." He knew she would be shaking her head.

"Did the other Ron do the same?"

"I don't recall a specific occasion on which he did, but he probably would have."

He grunted in response. Of course his counterpart would do the same!

"Luna's already hacking into the second security system, but it'll take a while."

"I know."

"Is there something wrong with your eyes, or are you just trying to sleep?"

He wasn't that tired. Even if he felt like it. He looked at her with a frown and saw that she was smirking - and dangling a Mars bar in front of him. One of the sensibly sized ones, not the small ones.

"Thanks!" He grabbed it and ripped it open. That hit the spot. "When's dinner, by the way?"

"That depends on whether Harry is letting Ginny do the next climb, or insists on catering to his male ego."

"Ginny can cook," Ron pointed out. "She just doesn't want to."

"Ah." She nodded. Probably expected that - she knew Mum's counterpart, after all, and that witch was almost as good at cooking as Mum, and probably had insisted on teaching her Ginny everything as well, no matter her daughter's wishes.

"As long as it's not Sirius, we should be fine," Ron said.

"I've still got MREs." She was smirking, so she was probably joking. Probably.

On the other hand… "I think I could eat a whole ration," he said. The climb had been exhausting.

She dropped a ration on his chest a moment later. He grabbed it and held it up. Curry chicken. Shaking his head, he handed it back. "I think I'll just rest until dinner." He grabbed her hand and squeezed.

She laid down next to him, snuggling up until her head rested on his arm and shoulder.

* * *

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 2nd, 2006**

"Alright! I've compromised the secondary security system as well." Luna announced, stretching her arms over her head. "I haven't been able to pinpoint the location of the guard watching the feeds from the office, but it can't be too far away. Probably in Putin's quarters."

"That would make sense. He'd want some guards there as well, and if the same people guard both his office and apartment, that creates a useful synergy - and he has to trust a smaller number of people with his life and secrets," Dumbledore said.

Ron nodded, rotating his shoulder a little. It felt a bit sore. A combination of his climb and Hermione using it as a pillow for the night. Not that he'd complain.

"So, what are the odds of a tertiary security system completely isolated from the ones we know about?" Harry asked.

"It's not impossible," Luna said, "but they would have had to further compromise the walls of the office."

"I wouldn't put it past President Putin to go to those lengths, but I believe he'd value his privacy more than an additional layer of security - even now, Russia's leader has to watch his own people as closely, or more so, than foreign enemies." Dumbledore smiled. "And unlike in Britain, a power struggle in Russia is a very serious, possibly lethal, affair. There will already be some people who haven't been informed about the truth behind President Putin's new security measures now wondering whether he's become too paranoid to function. And the more guards he needs, the more people know both our secret and his vulnerability and fears."

Which meant Putin couldn't just add an unlimited number of guards to his office. Ron smiled. Good enough for him.

"We have isolated the security cameras, but we have to consider that Putin might have a way to alert the rest of his guards, like a panic button in his desk," Hermione said.

"Moody's eye would come in very handy right now," Ron's counterpart commented. "Too bad he and Dumbledore took the secret of enchanting it to their graves."

Ron looked at Hermione, raising his eyebrows. "They were the only ones who knew how to make something like that?" And what did it do? Probably see through walls.

She sighed. "Or just Dumbledore. But… proper documentation of his work apparently wasn't among the Headmaster's virtues."

Ron snorted. "If Moody was involved, I bet he insisted on destroying all records."

His counterpart and both Harrys nodded in agreement. Hermione nodded a moment later. "That seems likely," she agreed.

"Very likely, if your Mr Moody was similar in temperament to ours, who, fortunately, still walks this earth," Dumbledore said. "If I didn't know better, I would suspect that he has Russian ancestry."

Ron chuckled briefly at the joke. "That still leaves us with the problem of taking out Putin and his guards very quickly - before they can trigger an alert."

"Kind of like a bank robber's problem," Harry added.

"Well, we could cast a ward over the room - that would stop all muggle systems, wouldn't it?" wizarding Ron asked.

"And it would most certainly trigger an alert in the sections of the bunker not covered by this 'ward'," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Oh."

"We could cover the entire Kremlin with a ward! Shut all the machines down! That would be a great distraction!" wizarding Luna blurted out.

Hermione gasped.

"That would take a long time to set up, and we couldn't do it while shrunk," wizarding Harry retorted.

"Further, the first thing everyone would do is to check on and evacuate President Putin," Dumbledore added with a gentle smile. "That would run counter to our plan to quietly interrogate him."

"So, we need to be faster than they can react," Ron summed up.

"The problem is that we've got four wands and five targets," wizarding Harry said. "That means one of the targets needs to be taken down without a Stunner."

"We could use a stun gun," Sirius proposed. "They can't do anything if they're twitching on the floor with their muscles locked up."

Ron nodded. In a cyberpunk novel, the guards would have been covered by sensors reading their vitals, but that wouldn't be the case here so it should work. But… "Those stun guns also have after-effects," he pointed out. "A medical examination might reveal them."

"Then we need to ensure that there isn't any cause for such an examination," Hermione said. "We can use some healing spells to deal with at least part of that, but I don't know how sensitive the medical instruments are here."

"President Putin will have the very best and most advanced medical technology at his disposal," Dumbledore said. "Little, if any, of it domestically sourced, of course. Whether he would use them on his guards, though, I cannot say. We should assume the worst."

"So, stun gun for one guard. Stunners for the rest and Putin," wizarding Harry said. "We disable the cameras and other alerts, apparate to the barn, cancel the Shrinking Charm and apparate directly into the office."

"Luna will keep the alerts from going off, but our arrival will still be noticeable," Hermione objected. "Even if we suppress the sound beforehand, they'll still feel the displaced air."

"That can't be helped," wizarding Harry replied. "We'll have to take that risk."

"Well, you'll be covered by shields," Ron remarked with a frown. "And what if between your departure and entry, someone walks into the silenced area?"

"We'll have to be quick," his counterpart said. "Who's coming with us with the muggle stunner?"

"Harry and I," Ron told him. "We've got experience with stun guns."

No one objected.

"A Silencing Charm on the door is a must," Hermione added. "Even before the Muggle-Repelling Charm."

Wizarding Ron nodded, though Ron felt that he took that for granted.

"I think that is it, so to speak," Dumbledore said. "A straightforward plan with good odds for success and minimal risk."

"Yes," Ron agreed, not adding that Dumbledore wasn't the one going in and taking out a highly-trained guard. Mostly because Dumbledore would probably volunteer to go with them. "Let's do it tomorrow morning, once the shift's changed."

* * *

**Kremlin, Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006**

"The guards have been changed," Luna reported. "Putin's still in the office."

Well, that was to be expected - the man rarely took breaks outside his office. "Give them ten more minutes in case they forgot something?" Ron suggested.

"A good idea," Dumbledore agreed.

Ten minutes later, nothing had changed. Ron checked his weapons, his harness and his bulletproof vest. Everything was in place. Good.

He stood and stepped over to where the others were gathering. Wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron were already there - with magical robes, apparently, there wasn't much to check. They were wearing bulletproof vests, too, though - under their red robes. Hermione was dressed like Ron and Harry - black turtleneck and pants, boots, vest and webbing, as Sirius called it. Wizarding Luna had opted for the same outfit - Luna's influence, Ron hoped. And not Dumbledore's.

Everyone was masked as well.

"Alright. Target check," Harry said.

"Left back corner guard!" Wizarding Luna sounded cheerful and not at all nervous.

"Right back corner guard," wizarding Ron added.

"Right front corner guard," Ron and Harry said together.

"Left front corner guard." Hermione was obviously tense.

"Putin," Wizarding Harry reported.

"Good." Harry nodded. "Everyone ready?"

"Ready," Ron replied.

Hermione took his hand as the others echoed him. "Ready," she said.

"Go!" Harry snapped.

Ron held his breath until they reappeared inside the barn they had used before. At his size, it looked gigantic - and he didn't want to wonder how many spiders were hiding in the straw and dust around them.

"Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem!"

Suddenly, the barn looked small again. And much safer. A moment later, he felt and saw himself fading from view, followed by Harry. He got his bearings, took his stun gun in hand and turned so he'd be facing the right guard. Then Hermione grabbed his free hand.

"Ready!" she announced.

"Ready." "Ready." "Ready."

"Go!" Harry snapped again.

And Ron appeared in the middle of Putin's office. As planned, he was facing the guard standing in the right front corner - but there was already an alert sounding. What the hell?

They were committed. And the guard was already raising his gun. Ron lunged, knocking it down, then raised the stun gun - but Harry must have been an instant faster - the guard was already collapsing. Ron followed up for good measure, and the man collapsed. Shots rang out - automatic fire. Ron felt something hit his back and dropped, rolling to the side. A red spell hit the man on the ground, and he stopped screaming.

Ron drew his gun. Who was shooting? Apparently, no one any more - all guards and Putin were down. But the alert was still sounding. "Everyone alright?" He hated that he couldn't see anyone. Really hated it. And his back hurt like hell.

The door to Putin's quarters swung open, an armed man appearing in the doorway. Two red spells took him down before he could shoot.

The next one managed to get a burst off before he fell.

"Going in," wizarding Harry snapped. "We've got shields."

Ron still took cover.

"My bloody leg," Harry said behind him. "I'm bleeding!"

"What?" Hermione gasped. Then Harry faded into view, his black pants wet and leaving a growing red stain on the floor.

"Episkey!" she all but yelled. "Scourgify!" The stain on the floor disappeared.

"Thank you," Harry said. He started to get up, but then winced - his leg must still be hurting if no longer bleeding like a stuck pig. Ron helped him stand and hissed in pain. His back hurt.

"Ron?"

"I got shot in the back," he pressed out. "Doesn't feel like it went through the vest."

Hermione, of course, checked herself. Ron felt almost as relieved as she sounded when she told him he was correct. "I've secured the door to his front office," she went on, "but that won't hold everyone forever - not if they heard the alert or the shots. And the additional guards in the flat will have alerted more."

Damn. "Plan B," Ron said.

"Going!" wizarding Luna replied. A few seconds later, a rapidly growing Dumbledore appeared in the office - next to a still disillusioned, but probably normal-sized witch.

"Let's hope my observations of President Putin over the last few days will bear fruit," the old spymaster said as he knelt down next to the unconscious president and reached out to the man's eyebrows. "Please start stripping him."

As Ron moved to do so, running into Harry, who was also still disillusioned, on the way, Hermione faded into view, holding a potion vial out to Dumbledore. The old man dropped what Ron hoped was an eyebrow hair into it and swallowed all of it. Then he started to shake and shiver and.. blur. And then, another Putin stood there, with a rather out of character-like smile on his face.

"Hurry!" Hermione snapped. "Even with the charm, they won't wait forever."

A few minutes of frantic dressing and stripping later, Dumbledore was wearing Putin's clothes. And his counterpart reported that they had taken out two more guards.

"We need to go now!" Hermione announced. "Harry and Ron - stay with Mr Dumbledore."

Ron saw the two wizards starting to shrink a moment before Hermione grabbed him and he felt like he was being stuffed through a narrow pipe or hose again.

They were back in the barn. Luna appeared as well, with the real Putin. And she had apparently taken the time to conjure clothes for him.

Another couple of Shrinking Charms and one Side-Along-Apparition later, they were back in their Kremlin base.

* * *

"Putin's secured," Ron said, stepping back from the metal chair.

Hermione nodded and drew her wand. She had been looking forward to this confrontation. And Dumbledore had indulged her - probably because he would have loved to talk to Putin under these circumstances himself, but couldn't as he needed to replace the Russian. Ron just hoped that it would give her some sort of closure. Or at least satisfaction after being hunted for so long. There was no real point otherwise.

"Rennervate!"

As soon as Hermione's spell hit Putin, his eyes flew open and he looked around. Ron didn't notice any sign of confusion or disorientation, either. Nor did the Russian look concerned or afraid - he met their eyes without flinching. There was even a hint of a sneer in his expression.

Until he noticed the giant computer to the side. That made him blink - for a second or two. Then he snorted. "I see Dr Granger's research has progressed further than we thought," he commented in unaccented English.

"You might say that - we had a breakthrough after your attack in Scotland," Hermione replied.

Putin scoffed in return. "I had heard that you were taking part in these operations, but I had my doubts. What kind of fool would risk you like that?"

"Someone who knows that I won't let my friends take risks alone," she replied with a scowl that deepened when he laughed.

Ron schooled his features. Yes, taking Hermione on these missions might seem a little foolhardy. If you didn't know about her magic. And if you didn't know her. If you did, you'd know that trying to make her stay behind was far more foolhardy.

Hermione scoffed. "You have no idea of my capabilities. And you have no idea of your own situation, either."

"Oh, but I do," Putin retorted. He laughed again. "I've been kidnapped by British agents. That's an act of war. How much do you think Britain will be willing to surrender to Russia to avoid a war? We've already gathered proof of your involvement in the attack on our shores in the Black Sea. We will find proof of your involvement in this kidnapping as well."

"There won't be any proof," Hermione said. "Because as far as your staff knows, you haven't been kidnapped."

"You bravely fought off unknown kidnappers who managed to take out your guards," Ron added.

Putin scoffed again, but he had to be rattled. "A body double? You plan to replace me with an actor, and expect it not to be discovered? How stupid do you think my men are?"

Ron smiled and glanced at the screen to the side. It was currently showing 'Putin' ordering his men around - the guards had already been moved out of the office. "It doesn't look like they've noticed anything." Well, any minor inconsistencies would be justified as the after-effects of the attack.

Putin didn't look concerned, though, and he scoffed again. "A predictable attempt at psychological warfare. If anything happens to me, Britain will pay the price. Not even Dumbledore would risk that. My men know that you're behind this - and they'll manufacture proof if needed."

He was definitely rattled if he was repeating himself, in Ron's opinion. But they were wasting time. He looked at Hermione.

She pressed her lips together, then nodded - reluctantly. "I'm telling you what is going to happen," she said, pulling a vial out of her bag. "You will tell us who else knows about my research. And then you'll forget about this kidnapping. When you wake up, you'll know that I wasn't attacked for my research, but because Kirikov wanted to silence me before I remembered that he had kidnapped me as a child. And that Mr Dumbledore used the opportunity to launch a decoy operation that would expose many of your assets in Britain by planting false rumours about my research."

"My people know the truth," Putin retorted - though he was staring at the vial. "We interrogated Igor thoroughly. We know what you can do."

Hermione smiled, showing her teeth, as she drew her wand. "No, Mr Putin. You really don't know what I can do."

She flicked her wand, and half a dozen snakes appeared, slithering towards Putin. They climbed his legs and slid under his jacket and shirt. The Russian stiffened but kept his composure.

Until Hermione swished her wand, and all the snakes disappeared. For the first time, he looked shaken.

"I'm a witch, Mr Putin." She smiled. "And you're not prepared for _magic_."

But the man was prepared for body doubles, Ron realised. Still, no body double would be as good as a double using Polyjuice Potion. And yet… He gasped. Putin suspected that Hermione could travel to other dimensions. That she was a double from another dimension. And if he was as paranoid as he seemed… He was trying to gain time. "Dose him with the Veritaserum!" Ron snapped. "He's got protocols for dimensional doubles!"

Hermione gasped. "Oh no - I should've thought of that!" she blurted out as she rushed towards their suddenly struggling and cursing captive. But as much as Putin tried to resist, it was to no avail. Not even ten seconds later, three drops of the potion fell on to his tongue.

The few seconds that passed until the potion took effect felt like hours to Ron. Finally, he blurted out: "What method did you implement to detect dimensional doubles?"

"Special passphrases," Putin droned.

"Who in the Kremlin knows them?" Ron pressed on.

"Ilija Petrovic and Grigory Drugov."

"Who are they?"

"My bodyguards."

Of course, he would only trust those who already guarded his life - and not potential rivals. "What are their passphrases?"

Putin answered, and Ron had to suppress a groan - of course, the phrases would be in Russian! "Repeat them!"

Putin did.

Ron tried to remember them, mumbling under breath. "Repeat."

Putin did again.

"I think I got them," Ron snapped. "I'll inform Dumbledore! Hand me a broom and disillusion me!" They couldn't use radio - not here, where every frequency would be monitored.

Hermione nodded - her lips were pressed together, he noted. She was blaming herself for this. But it wasn't her fault; no one had expected this. They should have, of course - the Russians were paranoid enough to expect an invasion by dimensional doppelgängers.

Ron felt the spell take effect and rushed towards the small opening in the ceiling. He forced himself through it, falling for a moment before he could straddle the broom, then took off towards Dumbledore.

The old spymaster was in the middle of the office, supervising the agents going over the bullet holes in the wall and the damaged furniture. Two men looking like paramedics were talking to him, though he kept waving them off.

Obviously, neither of the two bodyguards had reached him yet. Perhaps one of them had been on duty in Putin's quarters, and had been taken out by wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron?

It didn't matter. Ron clenched his teeth and guided the broom towards Dumbledore's head. He had to slow down now, and he avoided one of the paramedics, then almost crashed into Dumbledore's forehead when the man moved and turned to snap at the Russians.

Ron turned away and returned on another approach. Behind Dumbledore, he saw two guards snap to attention - someone important was arriving. Either a member of the government or… one of the commanders of the bodyguards. And Ron didn't think that Putin would be receiving staff members right now. Cursing under his breath, he urged the broom onward and dived towards Dumbledore's head again.

Once more, Dumbledore moved, tilting his head, but Ron managed to compensate and came to a stop next to the man's right ear. He reached out and touched it, then stuck his head into it and said: "Putin has passphrases to uncover doubles! Two guards know them - Ilija Petrovic and Grigory Drugov." He repeated the passphrases, hoping fervently that he had remembered them correctly, then repeated everything twice since Dumbledore couldn't answer. Couldn't even confirm that he'd heard.

The officer reached Dumbledore and saluted.

Dumbledore nodded in return, barking something in Russian.

The officer replied, then took a step back and said one of the passphrases. All the guards in the room suddenly tensed. Ron held his breath. If Dumbledore hadn't gotten the message.

But the old man had - he gave the countersign, and the officer nodded, obviously satisfied.

Ron let out a sigh of relief, told Dumbledore he was returning upstairs and flew away.

That had been close.

* * *

"...and Pavel Ivanovich. Military attaché at the Russian embassy in London," Putin droned on.

"Got it!" Luna announced from where she was taking notes.

Ron refrained from cursing. They couldn't call Ivanovich back to Moscow before they had to return the real Putin - which meant another operation.

"Does anyone else know about my supposed research into dimensional travel?" Hermione asked.

"No."

"What about Kirikov?"

"Dead."

Ron nodded. That wasn't really a surprise. So, a dozen people to deal with. More knew about the danger of teleporting intruders, but that was limited to the security forces here. "How's Dumbledore doing?"

"Still ordering everyone around," Ginny replied from where she was keeping watch on Putin's office.

That was good. According to their plan, 'Putin' would personally lead the investigation. That way, he could call the others who knew about Hermione and interrogate them - which would let the group deal with them as well.

Now they just had to stick to the plan, change the Russians' memories - and then break into the Russian embassy in London to deal with the last one.

And hope that nothing else went wrong.

* * *

Ron checked his watch. Dumbledore was on his third dose of Polyjuice Potion now. And there was no sign that he would have a chance to swap with the real Putin any time soon - even if Hermione managed to finish rearranging and replacing Putin's memories.

Which she hadn't, a glance over his shoulder told him. At least Ron had been able to tell Dumbledore the list of names, and what they knew about them.

"This takes time," wizarding Luna told him as she sat down at his side.

"Hm?"

"It's a very delicate spell. Well, the spell is easy, but using it is a delicate affair. Or should be," she explained.

"I know." He did, but that didn't help with the waiting. They had narrowly escaped disaster once already. Twice, if they counted the first change of plans, though they'd had a contingency plan for that.

Below them, Dumbledore was sitting at Putin's desk, giving more orders in Russian. Ron couldn't follow what the old spymaster was saying, but he recognised a few names from the list.

"I hope that means that Dumbledore arranged a spare room for the interrogation," he said.

"We can use magic to keep everyone out. They'll invent reasons to leave Putin alone." The witch was smiling.

"But they won't invent reasons to excuse him being alone with others that will stand up to scrutiny later," he told her. "Especially if they let him be alone in a room that had already been compromised by an attack." In such a situation, Ron would know something weird had happened and investigate. He didn't doubt that the Russians would do the same.

"I trust Albus. He's got experience with this."

He glanced at her. She did look confident. Trusting.

What the hell had Dumbledore done to earn that?

She chuckled. "I don't totally trust him, of course. He's a member of the Shadow Government, an arms dealer and a spymaster. But I trust him to be good at it."

Ah. Ron felt relieved - a little, at least. "We're still in a sticky situation," he said. "We can't really talk with him."

"You can talk to him, though."

"Yes. But he can't talk back. And I don't know if he understood everything or not. And he can't signal us what he needs." Not without tipping off the Russians. At least they could use enchanted parchment to send messages to and from wizarding Harry and Ron's counterpart.

"And you don't like that."

"I don't," he confirmed. Of course not. But he hated most that he couldn't do much. Couldn't do enough.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "It'll work out. If we fail, we can always move everyone to my world. Or to another world. That would be fun, wouldn't it?"

He managed to control himself. This was Luna's counterpart. If she was like his Luna - and she was very similar - then she didn't have many friends and only her father as family. The Lovegoods - either ones - would easily move, and Ron could understand that.

But his own family? They wouldn't. They were rooted in this world. In their lives. Ginny was a famous athlete. Percy had a promising career in Her Majesty's Civil Service. As did Dad. Bill, Charlie and the twins had careers of their own. Friends and lovers. They couldn't give all that up and move to another world.

Especially not one where they already existed.

Ron wasn't even sure he could do it. He wanted to be with Hermione no matter where she was, but… to live as a muggle among wizards? Depend on them each time he had to enter a magical area? Or wanted to 'hang out' with wizards?

Would he be able to stomach that, or would he end up eaten by envy and jealousy? Would being able to fly a broom and use other enchanted items be enough? This wasn't D&D, and even D&D hadn't managed to balance wizards and fighters in thirty years.

He snorted, and wizarding Luna beamed at him. "That's the spirit! Always be open to new things and you'll never stagnate!"

He nodded, hoping his guilt at lying to her wasn't visible. She really was like Luna.

"Oh! Albus is moving."

"What?" He checked. Dumbledore was walking out of the office - and not into Putin's quarters. Well, that made sense. The Russians knew that security was compromised here. On the other hand…

"Dumbledore's left the office," he told the others as he walked over to them. "Luna?" he asked. "How's the Russian bug hunt going?"

She chuckled, sounding exactly like her counterpart. "They haven't found me. Although they'll soon have checked all the cables, I believe."

And that would lead them to their base here. Well, they were ready to move. All but Hermione.

"Where's Dumbledore moving to?" Ginny asked.

"We don't know. But the other Harry and Ron are with him and can apparate back to us once they've settled in," Harry replied.

"Or inform us in writing," wizarding Luna added.

"We might want to move anyway," Sirius suggested. "Without having to rush everything."

"Yes. Let's move to the barn."

It was getting too dangerous to stay.

But they would have to return as soon as Dumbledore was set up.

* * *

**Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006**

There was something moving nearby. Something big. Ron took a deep breath and kept his rifle aimed at the closest batch of straw and decaying plants. "Please no spiders," he mumbled under his breath. He'd rather see a mouse or shrew than a spider. Not even a small one. Not even with potions to counter any venom available.

"Ron?"

He glanced over his shoulder. Hermione was walking towards him. He didn't turn around, though, and returned his attention to their surroundings - his part of the perimeter - even as he replied: "Did you finish?"

"Putin's now convinced he almost fell for a decoy operation. One in which Kirikov took part. And that there are more traitors who allowed us to penetrate his security."

"Good." One down, six to go.

She stood next to him, sighing. "No news from Dumbledore. Harry sent a message through the charmed parchment - they're moving to a different building."

Great. He stifled a curse. "Are they in the escape tunnel?"

"Yes. Or one of them."

"We'll just have to wait until they arrive at their destination," Ron said.

"I know."

But she wanted to be with her friends. He understood the sentiment. Very well.

"I just wish we could be our regular size," he said. But with Russian security on full alert, they couldn't trust that someone wasn't checking every nook and cranny - including this barn - in and around Moscow.

"Me too. Luna loves it, though. Both Lunas."

He snorted. "I bet they do. This must be like an expedition for them." It was for him - he just didn't like it. He didn't feel safe, and not because of spiders. He didn't say so, though - he didn't want to sound paranoid.

"Yes." She sighed again. "This actually reminds me…" She trailed off, looking at the parchment in her hand. "They've stopped moving and are settling down."

* * *

_She looked around the clearing. It shouldn't feel like home. It didn't, actually. But she was getting familiar with it. Moody would say that meant it was time to change - that they were becoming predictable. But it didn't really matter. The Death Eaters couldn't track Apparition, and even if they could, any other camp would be at risk as well. What was important was that no one, not even their closest friends, knew about this place - or that they even knew about this forest._

_They were safe here._

_She told herself that. But she didn't feel safe. The war wasn't going well. It wasn't going badly, either, but… how much longer could they hunt down Horcruxes without Voldemort noticing?_

_How much longer before they had to move out again?_

_She sighed. They were close. Very close. But the longer it took, the more dangerous it became._


	56. Chapter 56: The Subordinates

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 56: The Subordinates**

**Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006**

Shortly after the parchment message, wizarding Ron arrived in the barn and quickly set down in the middle of the camp - apparently uncaring about the resident animals that might think a shrunken wizard would make a tasty meal. At least he had sense enough to announce himself before appearing invisible in their midst.

"Harry's with Dumbledore, but the muggles don't have a clue. They didn't notice us flying around, either," he reported. "It's another bunker; the entrance is hidden in a garage - how many secret bunkers have the muggles hidden around here, anyway?" Wizarding Ron shook his head. "They're worse than the goblins! Or were there some mines around, and once they ran dry, they turned them into secret hideouts?"

"That's just the Russians for you," Sirius replied. "Though if you want to see crazy tunnels and bunkers, you need to visit Switzerland - they have a bunker for everyone! They say that you can walk from one end of the country to the other without seeing the sun."

"I actually doubt that," Hermione said. "It wouldn't have made any sense to actively maintain so many bunkers after the Cold War ended - if there ever were that many bunkers in the first place."

"They probably turned them into vaults for all their stolen gold." Sirius grinned.

"Wow - just like Gringotts!" Ron's counterpart exclaimed. "Are they the muggle counterparts of the goblins?"

Ron laughed. "They usually call them 'gnomes'."

"Oh! So it is true!"

Hermione glared at him. "No, Ron's pulling your leg."

"Oh."

Ron grinned at his counterpart. "Gnomes of Zürich is a slang term for Swiss bankers," he said.

"Though there could be a connection. Magic exists in this world, but there are no native magical species of any kind. So those who would have evolved into magical creatures must have taken a different route here. It could very well be true that the Swiss bankers are Gringotts' counterparts," wizarding Luna pointed out. "It's certainly something worth investigating."

Luna mumbled a few uncomplimentary words about the Swiss banks which Ron was very familiar with. He cleared his throat before she could really get started. "We should focus on our current problem," he reminded the others.

"Yes," Hermione agreed at once. "We need to deal with the five other people who are aware of my research."

"And we can't take too long," Harry added. "Dumbledore has to keep taking the potion every hour, and he has to sleep sometime. We're on a timer here."

"Well, it doesn't look like they'll leave him alone. They even sent a guard with him when he went to the toilet," wizarding Ron said.

"Then we'll have to take down the guards and deal with their memories - once we're ready to make the swap," Ron replied. "First, though, we'll have to deal with the surveillance in the new bunker. They didn't notice you, but once we start taking down Putin's visitors..."

"Yes," Luna agreed. "I doubt that it's as extensive as the one under the Kremlin - they would have further improved that one if they had resources to spare - but it won't be easy, either. The Russians have been a key part of the Shadow Government for decades and know all about surveillance from controlling their population with it."

"But can you handle it?" Hermione asked. "Quickly enough that we can deal with the others before Dumbledore collapses - or is sedated by Putin's guards thinking it's for his own good?"

"Of course." Luna nodded with a confident expression. "After the Kremlin's security, I know their tricks."

"Good. Then let's start." Hermione looked at her friend. "Ron, please take Luna and me there so we can get the others."

"What if they do notice you arriving?" Sirius asked.

He had a point. It was not very likely, but it didn't pay to underestimate the Russians - they hadn't expected an alarm under Putin's carpet that wasn't connected to the security system, either. On the other hand, some things you couldn't really deal with. Or had to deal with. "Then we withdraw and see where they'll take Dumbledore next."

"Let's go," Hermione repeated herself. "We'll be right back," she added with a smile at Ron.

A moment later, she, wizarding Ron and wizarding Luna had disappeared.

"I wish I had learned Russian," Luna commented. "I could do so much more if I understood the language."

"Me too," Ron replied. No magic and no Russian. He really needed to pull his weight.

* * *

**Hidden Bunker, Outside Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006**

Compared to the bunker beneath the Kremlin, this one was a step down, in Ron's opinion. Not only with regards to the security system - the sensors and cameras in this bunker hadn't been nearly as numerous, nor as difficult to deal with, as the ones in Putin's office and there were no ultrasound detectors that would catch invisible shrunken wizards on flying brooms - but also with regards to amenities.

Bare concrete, cots instead of beds and the bathrooms had a distinct 'forties' look - although they looked well-maintained, nothing like what Ron had seen working for CI5 in some of the poorer sections of London.

On the other hand, the lack of a fake ceiling in which to set up camp was a hindrance to their efforts to penetrate this bunker's security. Instead of standing on a solid floor, they were stuck to the wall with conjured and disillusioned balconies, as if they were mountaineers bivouacking in the Eiger-Nordwand.

Ron spent as much time on a broom as he could - the thought of standing, much less resting on an invisible platform that was conjured out of thin air and might disappear with a single spell was unnerving.

At least Luna wasn't affected - she was stuck in the biggest tent, hacking into the Soviet-era computers, last he had checked.

But it was getting late in the afternoon, and time was starting to run short. Dumbledore was visibly tiring, or at least that's what it looked like to Ron.

He flew another loop, staying well away from the half a dozen guards in the room - subduing them would be a pain as well, but should be possible with Dumbledore's help - and checked the entrance. The door was open and more guards were waiting outside. Four, no secretary. He wanted to fly out and look for their relief, but he wasn't a wizard - if the door closed behind him, he wouldn't be able to return using Apparition. He would have to wait until someone found him, and that would be embarrassing.

Although… he narrowed his eyes when Dumbledore spoke up, and suddenly, two guards were leaving, and two more entered before the process repeated itself. Obviously, they had received their orders - possibly marching orders. But that would mean…

He flew back to the camp, feeling around for a moment until he found the invisible tent, then snuck in and announced himself. "There you are!" Hermione greeted him. "We're almost done."

"So I thought when I saw Dumbledore handing out orders that made the guards jump," he replied.

"Yes. Luna's positive that she'll have cracked their security soon, so we told Dumbledore, and he ordered the others to be brought to him."

"Ah." He had expected - and hoped - for that. Things were coming to a head, then. Finally. "So how do we do this?"

Hermione sighed. "With six guards to take out, we'll have to split them up."

Ron nodded, not that she could see him since he was still disillusioned. "Unless you want to use the twins' gadgets."

"Most of them aren't subtle enough," she retorted. "And the rest are too dangerous for us. They were made to take out Death Eaters, not capture muggles without harming them."

"They would be very convenient, though, if we need to incapacitate the entire bunker."

"And start a war," she replied in a flat voice.

"Not if we blame internal rivals for it," he said. And with Polyjuice Potion, they probably could. Of course, that'd also mean the mission was a failure.

"Let's avoid making things worse," she said.

"I've got it!" Luna announced. "Everything is ours!"

* * *

Half an hour later, Ron was observing from above again as Dumbledore got up, said something in Russian, and headed towards the bathroom with two guards in tow. He stopped, pointed at a third and ordered the man to come as well. Good.

The remaining three guards didn't seem to suspect anything - they started chatting in Russian, in whispers, as soon as Dumbledore left. Ron thought they were talking about Putin, but he wasn't entirely sure.

It didn't matter - ten minutes later, Dumbledore returned with the guards and this time, he closed the door to the room behind them.

That made the other guards react, but too late - the three guards with Dumbledore hit them with a Stunning Spell each, and down they went. A moment later, Wizarding Luna, full-sized, faded into view at the door. "No one will disturb us until I end the charm. Hurry, though."

Ron didn't need to be told twice. He flew in front of her face, touching her nose, and she ended the Disillusionment Charm on him, and then undid the Shrinking Charm.

Then it was his turn to drink Polyjuice Potion and impersonate one of the remaining guards.

* * *

Ron just had to stand still and keep quiet. Easy. Guards weren't meant to talk, after all. Unless it was to check passphrases. Or sound an alert. Which they wouldn't need to do here. It was so easy, anyone could do it. But waiting for their first target to arrive, hoping the other guards wouldn't be suspicious? When he couldn't really do anything to influence matters? That was hard.

If only he spoke Russian… well, no. Even in that case, he'd have to stay quiet since his speech pattern would give him away - he wasn't a spy trained to impersonate others. Or a wizard with experience passing as someone else. He did have experience working undercover, but it wasn't really the same.

Well, he wasn't the only one. Harry and Sirius were in the same boat. But at least the three of them knew how to carry and handle a gun - wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron were holding theirs a little sloppily. The two wizards not only had to stand still, but they also couldn't touch anything either - he almost snorted remembering the quick instruction the wizards had been given by Sirius.

His eyes strayed to Hermione. Who currently looked like a burly Russian soldier. A male soldier. Now that was a weird sight. Standing still, one couldn't tell that it was her, but if she moved, it showed. And watching a Russian guard walk like a woman was remarkable. Slightly unnerving, but remarkable.

Perhaps she didn't have much experience with Polyjuice Potion, either. In fact, now that Ron thought about it, could this be a possible niche? One didn't need a wand to drink a potion, after all.

On the other hand, without the language skills, even using Polyjuice Potion, he would be limited to British and, perhaps, American cover identities. And not Australian ones - Ron had never managed to get that particular accent right.

He glanced at the corner, where the hidden base was, now also serving as a holding area for six shrunken and sedated guards and one sedated, shrunken president. No hint of their presence. Good.

He heard a knock at the door and took a deep breath, standing straighter, as Dumbledore asked something in Russian. The door opened, and one of the real guards appeared, saluting. And announcing something - Ron recognised the tone.

Ah. Behind the guard stood their first target. Pavel Turgenev. Officially, the man was merely part of Putin's party cadre. Unofficially, he was Putin's liaison to the private sector - both criminal and otherwise. The man who would pass on Putin's 'suggestions' if the Russian president wanted to keep his hands clean of any possible backlash.

Turgenev looked nervous, Ron noticed as the Russian entered. He was good at hiding it, but Ron had watched dozens of hardened criminals be interrogated; he knew the signs. Of course, if a Russian president survived an assassination attempt and now wanted answers, anyone would be nervous if they were called in, wondering if they might have been framed. Or wondering if an investigation into the attack had uncovered their own machinations.

Dumbledore, for a change, wasn't smiling at the man, but merely nodded at the chair in front of his desk, which only seemed to further unnerve the man.

Then Hermione waved her wand at the door, and wizarding Ron pointed his at Turgenev.

"Incarcerous."

Ropes appeared out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around the Russian, tying him to the chair.

"I'm afraid, Mr Turgenev, the real President Putin is currently indisposed," Dumbledore announced with a beaming smile.

The man gasped, then yelled - for help, presumably.

They let him yell for a few seconds until he realised that no one was reacting. No one was hearing him.

"Magic," Dumbledore said, tilting his head. "A very powerful tool, wouldn't you agree?"

"Magic?" Turgenev replied. He barely had an accent, Ron noted.

"Magic." Dumbledore nodded.

Whatever the Russian was about to say died on his tongue when the paper on the desk suddenly turned into a miniature elephant. Moments like these made Ron wonder if Hermione's claim that memory modifications were easier on shocked people was actually true.

And Hermione was already sitting in front of the captive, vial in hand. Once again, resistance proved to be futile and Turgenev started to spill his guts - though not literally. However, after what they heard en passant, Ron wouldn't have minded much if that had been the case. At least the Russian hadn't spilled the secret to anyone else - but he had records at home. Assurance or an ace up his sleeve? Ron didn't care. "We need to get the records and alter them," he said.

"Miss Lovegood?" Dumbledore spoke up. "Could you do that with Mr Wealsey?"

* * *

**Outskirts of Moscow, Russia, February 3rd, 2006**

They couldn't apparate to Turgenev's house, but it hadn't been hard to find - not even when flying on a broom while shrunken. For all that the Russian was supposed to hold a rather unimportant position in the party, and none in government, Ron thought his villa would not be out of place amongst some of the more modest oligarchs'.

"Let's circle it," he whispered to wizarding Luna, who was flying their broom. In theory, they could just fly to the window of Turgenev's office and apparate inside, but he wanted to have a better idea of the lay of the land before entering. According to Turgenev, there shouldn't be any traps, and the sensors shouldn't detect them at their current size, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

The front of the house was normal - what you would expect from the home of a rich Russian. The back, though, and the garden… Ron knew he had made a mistake as soon as he saw the cages holding a bear and a tiger.

"Those poor dears!" wizarding Luna exclaimed. "We'll have to save them!"

Yes. They should have apparated directly into the office. "We need to get the documents Turgenev left in his office," Ron told her. "We can't just steal two animals. Huge carnivorous animals, to be precise."

"Of course not!" Wizarding Luna's hair hit him in the face as she apparently nodded. "We can't steal them - that would be wrong. They deserve to be free!"

Oh no. "But we're on a mission… we don't have the time to…"

"Then we'll need to hurry!"

And the witch steered their broom into a steep dive, directly towards the tiger's cage.

"Stop!" Ron yelled. "There are cameras! We need a plan!"

They came to a stop well short of the cage, though the tiger was now looking directly at them. Good hearing, Ron assumed. Or it had smelt them.

But he had to be quick. "We need to get the documents first. As soon as the animals disappear, they'll sound the alarm." A Siberian tiger and what looked like a grizzly out and about in the outskirts of Moscow would draw half the militia.

"That would be a good distraction!"

"They'd shoot them."

"We're not going to actually set them free here," wizarding Luna retorted. "They need to be released in their native habitat. But if the police think that they are loose around here, they'll be very distracted."

She wasn't wrong, but… "We won't need a distraction if no one notices us."

"But we have all of Fred and George's inventions to use!"

"They're for emergencies," he told her. "Let's go get the documents before we lose any more time!"

He heard her huff, but she gripped his hand and apparated them into Turgenev's office before setting the broom down on the man's desk. As soon as Ron dismounted, he felt himself growing rapidly until he stood on the desk in his natural - or what was natural for the Russian he was impersonating - size. Fortunately, he was still disillusioned.

With Turgenev's information, taking the documents was easy enough without triggering the alarm guarding the secret compartment inside the fake fireplace. "I've got them!"

"Good. Now let's replace them with fake ones! And then we save Brian and Theo!"

She had named the animals. Great. But Ron took the fake documents hinting at some scandal relating to Putin and hid them where the originals had been.

"Now we need a plan to get the animals without being seen," he said. "We can cover the cameras, but that will alert the guards."

"We'll be gone before they arrive!"

"And we need a place to take the animals to," Ron went on.

"A Lovegood is always prepared to give a poor animal a new home!" wizarding Luna told him, holding up what looked like a cardboard box.

He blinked. It was a cardboard box…

"We'll shrink them and put them in here. So: cover the cameras with a Colour-Splash Spell, shrink the animals, put them in the box and go back!"

Try as he might, Ron couldn't find fault with that plan.

Half a minute later, the fault found him as he tried to capture a real miniature tiger that was far faster than anticipated - and tigers were already fast - and which could very easily slip through the bars of its cage.

And when he finally managed to catch it with a well-timed jump - having a different body made hunting anything harder than expected - it bit and scratched his hand.

Wizarding Luna, meanwhile, was apparently - he couldn't see her, but he heard her - tickling the shrunken bear she held in her hands without any trouble.

A few more scratches and a lot of cooing later, both animals were in the cardboard box - in separate compartments - and they were ready to leave. Finally. Wizarding Luna took his hand, and then they disapparated.

And reappeared in Putin's new office. Ron stumbled and almost fell - but that was probably the fault of being in the wrong body.

"Miss Lovegood. Mr Weasly. Welcome back," Dumbledore said. "I trust the mission was a success?"

He was seated behind the desk, looking a little tired - not that Ron was able to tell for sure, not knowing how a tired Putin looked. The others were seated as well - mostly on the ground - and Turgenev was slumped on a chair, drooling a little. Apparently, Hermione was done with him.

"Oh, yes!" Wizarding Luna beamed at the old man before Ron could say anything. "We liberated Brian and Theo!"

"Brian and Theo?" Hermione asked.

"Brian and Theo!" Wizarding Luna pulled the cardboard box out of an enchanted pocket and held it up. "Bian's the brown one, Theo's the striped one!"

"A tiger? And a bear? And you brought them with you?" Hermione, even still disguised as - shape-shifted into - a Russian man, sounded shocked.

"We couldn't leave them behind!" Wizarding Luna shook her head. "They were in small cages. And we couldn't set them free so far from their natural habitat."

Ron shrugged as Hermione looked at him. She hadn't expected him to stop wizarding Luna, had she?

"I'm certain that we can find a good place for them - once we're done here," Dumbledore said as he took another sip from his vial of Polyjuice Potion. "But we need to focus on our next visitor, now that you're back."

Ron nodded.

Hermione sighed. "At least tell me that you secured the animals."

"Oh, yes!" wizarding Luna told her. "The box is enchanted."

It was still a cardboard box, though. Ron sighed.

"I'll show them to the others!" wizarding Luna announced. She waved her wand, then started to shrink. Next to the cardboard box, which wasn't shrinking.

The miniature Luna must have realised the slight flaw in her plan as well since Ron saw her staring at the box with a cocked head. After a few seconds, she disapparated without the box.

Then she returned, holding Ginny's and Luna's hands, and turned the cardboard box transparent.

"Luna!" Hermione whispered, "This is not a zoo!"

Ron sighed and turned to Dumbledore. "We managed to exchange the documents."

"Splendid!" Dumbledore smiled widely. "Then let's send our exhausted friend here on his way, and receive the next man on the list. We cannot drag this out forever, after all."

No, they couldn't, Ron silently agreed. "Once the cardboard box is gone."

"Of course."

Ron's counterpart picked up the box and stuffed it into one of his pockets.

And then Turgenev was woken up and sent out before Dumbledore called the next visitor in.

* * *

"...and done!" Hermione announced as she straightened, stashing her wand.

Ron felt relief fill him. Relief and exhaustion. This meant that the only Russian left who knew about Hermione's origins was Pavel Ivanovich, the military attache at the Russian embassy in London. And it also meant that they had been at this for a long time now - it was close to midnight. The other guards were probably wondering what was wrong and why there hadn't been a shift change. Dumbledore playing a paranoid Putin could only explain things so far - it was time to get out. Before Dumbledore collapsed, and they had to spring him from a clinic - even if he was feeling twenty years younger, that still put him near retirement age, after all.

So, the moment had come to return the guards and Putin, of course. The guards could probably explain away the changes in procedure. Fortunately, with their memories, and their records, erased and replaced, it wouldn't matter much whether or not they could clear themselves.

Confusion to the enemy, as the toast went - a little infighting in the Kremlin and the FSS and FIS would only help to obfuscate matters even more. Between trying to pass the blame for falling for Dumbledore's ruse and for the attack on Putin in his supposedly secure underground office, the Russians should be kept quite busy for years hunting for imaginary traitors. And Ron didn't doubt that they would find some.

After all, without Kirikov's story, treason was the most likely explanation for a group of assassins suddenly appearing and disappearing in the bunker. Heads would roll, and after what Ron had heard from Dumbledore about the results of their interrogations, he hoped a lot of those would be from Putin's inner circle.

* * *

**No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, February 4th, 2006**

"'Tiger and Grizzly Loose in Moscow'. 'Feral Beasts Roam Streets of Russian Capital'. 'Exotic Animals Threaten Population'. 'Oligarch's Hobby Endangers People'. 'Abused Animals Escape'. 'Military To Hunt Predators'."

Ron shook his head at the various printed out news reports and even newspapers spread out on the kitchen table in Sirius and Harry's home. Even the BBC was reporting about the 'Tiger Hunt' in Moscow. "Luna's not going to like that," he said.

"Why? The animals aren't in Moscow," Hermione replied as she made more tea. "They're in your basement."

"Sirius's basement," Ron corrected her. He might have a permanent guest room here, but he had a flat of his own. "But I meant that her counterpart inadvertently provided Putin with a good excuse for sending soldiers into Moscow." That way, Putin could have his troops move in without alerting anyone that there had been an attack on him.

"Ah." She nodded. "That makes sense. But it can't be helped. And, overall, it won't change much."

He shrugged. She was correct, but Luna would still be angry about it. "She's still pouting about you not 'adjusting' Putin's mind."

"I _did _alter his memories," Hermione retorted. "Just not as much as Luna wanted." She checked the water and lifted the kettle off the counter.

"To be fair, making him passionate about nature preservation probably wouldn't have resulted in a catastrophe," Ron remarked as Hermione filled the teapot.

"It wouldn't have been worth the risk," she said with a frown.

Luna obviously disagreed, but Ron didn't care either way. "As long as she doesn't try to release the two animals into the garden…"

"It's not their natural habitat."

"But she might want to let them exercise." Ron chuckled at the idea. A tiny tiger and bear running around in the backyard…

Hermione's eyes widened, and she stood up. "Dear Lord, she would! I'll talk to her!"

He grabbed her hand. "Please, wait - we can talk to her if she wants to go out back." Luna would have to pass through the kitchen. Unless her counterpart apparated both of them, but they should know better than to do that in public. Or semi-public, in this case. He smiled at her. "Let's just enjoy the moment. We've been very busy for weeks."

Hermione set her jaw but then took a deep breath and her expression softened. "Alright," she said as she returned to her seat.

He reached out and grabbed her hand, gently squeezing for a moment before pulling back.

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence.

And, as Ron had expected, the Lunas showed up before he had finished his tea.

"Here you are!" Luna beamed at them. "Can you watch over Theo and Brian for a bit?"

"Us?" Ron didn't quite stare at them.

"Harry and Ginny aren't available, Albus is checking with the Shadow Government to make sure our mission against the Russian embassy won't run into their own covert surveillance, the other Harry and the other Ron are checking out the embassy, and Sirius, uh…"

"...is Sirius." Ron sighed. "Right. But why can't you watch them?"

"We need to make a few purchases. And check a few things," Luna told him.

"For our projects," wizarding Luna added with a wide smile. "And we wouldn't want the poor dears to grow bored, all alone in their box."

A box which, Ron noticed with a glance, had been turned into a miniature habitat. Two habitats, actually.

"I don't think they notice us," Hermione told the other two women. "And if they did, they'd probably be stressed by giant humans looking at them."

The Lunas winced. "Yes, Theo was quite confused, the poor thing," wizarding Luna said, "when we petted him. But Brian likes it. In any case, I enchanted the lid to only show the sky on their side. But you can shrink yourselves and play with them!"

Playing with a full-sized Siberian tiger and a grizzly? Yeah, right. Ron wasn't about to commit suicide by pet.

"I think we'll let them rest a little. They might become stressed, otherwise," Hermione said with a forced smile.

"You could conjure some miniature deer for them to hunt," Luna suggested. "That would prepare them for the wilderness and teach them how to feed themselves."

"But conjured animals wouldn't actually feed them, so they might learn the wrong lessons." Hermione was looking a little queasy now.

"So where are you going?"

"The Zoo!" Luna said. "Luna's never been there, can you imagine?"

"Have fun;" Ron told them with a smile. "Don't steal the animals, though."

"Of course not! We need a plan for that, first! Bye!" The Lunas disapparated.

Great.

"So… we're animal-sitters," he said, as nonchalantly as he could.

"While the Lunas scout out the location of their next heist." Hermione shook her head.

"Well, they said they won't steal any animal before they have a plan," Ron pointed out. "We can still stop this. Once they're back."

"You're partially responsible for this, you know." She didn't sound as if she shared his optimism.

He shook his head. "I did the best I could to rein her in." No one could've stopped wizarding Luna.

She sighed. "I guess no one could've stopped her. The Lunas seem to reinforce each other's more… problematic behaviour."

"As long as they're focused on saving nature rather than society," he replied. "It's still a problem, but not as bad as it could be."

She scoffed. "That doesn't mean it's a good thing. Merlin's beard, I almost wish they'd stick to saving the rainforests. At least none of the countries in the area has nuclear weapons." Shaking her head, she added: "Mind-controlling the Russian president… what were they thinking?"

Everyone from the group probably had been wondering about that. Ron shrugged. "Isn't that the norm in the other world?" He doubted that the wizards would've wanted to have the threat of nuclear annihilation hanging over their heads for decades.

"By people specially trained for it, and supported by portraits serving as spies," she said. "None of us has the training for this - or the time."

"We're lucky that the Cold War is over, then."

A tiny roar distracted him - Theo the tiger was facing Brian the bear through the transparent barrier separating their habitats. "Do you think we need to feed them?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Hermione replied. "The Lunas didn't say anything about it, but they might have simply forgotten to tell us - or they might've thought we already knew."

That sounded like the two women, indeed. "I think we should feed them," he said. "Well-fed animals are less likely to attack people."

"That's not necessarily true," she replied. "And those animals were either raised in captivity or spent significant time in cages. Who knows how that has influenced their behaviour?"

Ron wasn't a veterinarian, biologist or another expert. "It won't do any harm, though, will it?"

"I don't think so. Let's see what kind of meat Sirius has in the freezer."

"Why does he have half a cow stuffed into his freezer?" Ron stared at the box, wondering if it would burst at the seams if a wafer-thin mint were added.

"Did he order that to feed the animals?" Hermione asked.

He shook his head. "No. We would've noticed the delivery. And this wasn't stored here recently." He poked the plastic wrapping.

"I'm not sure if I want to know what he planned to do with it. Perhaps it was a spontaneous purchase?"

That would fit Sirius. Harry's godfather had a history of spending money on spur-of-the-moment projects - some of Harry's birthday parties had been very memorable. And had almost made it into several newspapers. "Well, whatever the reason, we've got enough meat to feed two hungry predators."

"True." She waved her wand, and the meat duplicated once, then once more. "One each should suffice."

"Once the meat's thawed."

Another wave with her wand saw the two pieces shrink. "That should help with that."

"Ah." And it should neatly avoid any potential problem with shrunken animals eating normal food, or vice versa - Ron could imagine a number of catastrophic results either way.

"Yes." She picked up the frozen pieces of meat and carried them into the kitchen.

"Isn't there a spell for instantly thawing frozen food without losing any of the flavour?" he asked on the way.

"No. Most wizards use spells to keep food fresh."

"Ah." That made sense. Sort of.

"And there's the Warming Charm if you need to thaw something."

She peered at the box, then at the pieces of meat in her hands. "It should be OK now," she said before tapping the box's lid, then dangling the two scraps of meat above the two animals.

Ron hadn't known that bears could jump that high. Neither had Hermione, since she shrieked and dropped the meat. Then she shrieked again when the tiger jumped up and clawed her other hand.

Both animals shredded the meat quite messily. "I don't think that they were fed," Ron commented.

"Or they are used to eating more," Hermione added, using her wand to heal the scratches on her hands. "They look a little fat."

Ron took a closer look, wincing at the feeding frenzy, then shrugged. He didn't know how slim or fat a grizzly or tiger should be. "Well, they look happy, I think."

"Crookshanks is slimmer than Theo, and he's a little overweight. My parents didn't enforce his diet."

"Isn't he also getting old?" She got him twelve years ago, didn't she? Ron thought so, at least.

"He's in his best years for a half-Kneazle."

"Ah."

"And normal cats can easily live to be twenty years old."

Ron nodded again, then closed the lid. "I think they're fine. And I'm not going to be shrunk and step in there."

"I won't either," Hermione replied before finishing her tea.

"So…" Ron started, then trailed off. They had to talk about their future, but he didn't feel like doing so right now.

"So?"

"Now everyone else is busy..." he said.

"Sirius isn't busy."

"He knows better than to walk in on a couple," Ron said, smiling slightly at her.

She grinned back at him. "Ah. That's what you're thinking of."

He shrugged without breaking eye contact. "We've been on this mission for weeks." They'd found time to be intimate, but not as much as Ron would have liked.

"Yes." She kept looking into his eyes as well. "Carpe diem?"

He nodded.

She stood and walked around the table, then slid into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "So…"

He licked his lips, then leaned forward and they kissed. And forgot all about the mission.

Until the sound of Apparition startled them. Hermione gasped, drawing her wand, and Ron had his pistol halfway out of its holster before he realised it was wizarding Harry with Dumbledore.

Neither of them smiled at the situation they had walked in - or apparated in - on. They were dead serious. Ron felt his stomach drop.

"Dr Granger, Mr Weasley, we have a situation," Dumbledore said. "President Putin had his people in the embassy arrest Mr Ivanovich. They're about to move him to the airport to transport him back to Russia."

"Oh, no," Hermione gasped.

Ron closed his eyes and sighed through clenched teeth.

It seemed that their plan to make Putin chase shadows had worked a little too well.

* * *

_She shook her head as she studied the small cove below her. A ferry! Why would they use a boat - and a small one - to transfer prisoners to Azkaban? Just because that's how things had always been done since they started using the prison? The bigots' mindless reliance on tradition would be their undoing!_

_Not that she was complaining, not really. But such stupidity angered her on principle. Even if it benefited them. Like today, when Dirk Cresswell was to be transported to Azkaban. The former head of the Goblin Liaison Office, whose only fault had been being a muggleborn. And a competent muggleborn, of course - he wouldn't have been promoted to department head otherwise._

"_No movement yet," she whispered - they were flying far above the sea, disillusioned, but she still shied away from talking loudly. "And it's past the departure time."_

"_Yes," Ron confirmed._

"_Technical difficulties?" Harry joked._

"_No," Ron replied, "they're just lazy and late."_

"_Good for us," she said. "If they aren't as alert as… there!"_

_A small boat was leaving the boathouse in the centre of the cove. Three men were sitting there, and a fourth was lying on the floor. Cresswell. The one human wizard who knew things about Gringotts even Bill didn't._

"_I'll take the one in the bow," Ron said._

"_I'll take the middle one," Harry added._

_Which left the one at the stern for her. "I'll take the one at the back."_

"_Let's do it!" Harry said._

_She saw the markers indicating her friends' positions diving towards the sea and followed them, wand already aimed at the Hit-Wizard at the back of the boat._


	57. Chapter 57: The Interception

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 57: The Interception**

**No 12 Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, February 4th, 2006**

"They've arrested their own attaché at the embassy?" Hermione blurted out. "And we need to spring him from a diplomatic transport?"

"Indeed. Needless to say, the situation is very delicate," Dumbledore replied.

"More 'delicate' than kidnapping the Russian president?" Ron asked.

"Touché, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said with a smile. "However, operating on British soil does add some complications. Our country is, after all, responsible for the safety of the embassy staff."

"Even if they are being forcefully returned to their country for enhanced interrogation?" Ron shook his head.

"You mean to be tortured," Hermione added.

"The Russians would certainly milk any incident for all that it's worth," Dumbledore said, "especially to divert attention from their disgraceful attack on us."

"But we can't let Putin interrogate Ivanovich!" Hermione protested. "It would undo all our efforts."

Dumbledore nodded. "And President Putin would then certainly become aware of more of our capabilities than he currently is. Worse, should he decide that he cannot defend himself against mental manipulation…"

Ron drew hissing breath. "If he thinks we could easily do the same thing again…" Hell, no!

"What?" wizarding Ron asked. "What would he do?"

"It's not certain, but if he fears that we could take control of Russia by mind-controlling its government, he might think a preemptive strike is his best option." Hermione had grown rather pale.

"Well, I think it could be reasonably said that we've already attacked him," Dumbledore said, "so this would be more of a retaliatory, rather than preventive or pre-emptive, attack."

"I don't think the technical details matter," Ron said. Not when they were, in the worst case, talking about a nuclear exchange.

"Indeed, I agree, they would not matter. But it is of the utmost importance that Mr Ivanovich does not reach Russia," the old spymaster said. "No matter what."

"You mean we should kill him?" wizarding Ron said. He didn't seem very concerned about the prospect.

"Preferably in a way that doesn't look like an attack by ourselves or our allies." Dumbledore inclined his head. "But we should focus on extracting him. If he merely vanishes, that should fuel President Putin's paranoia."

"And you'd offer him sanctuary in exchange of information?" Ron asked.

"After his memories have been suitably tweaked. I don't think Her Majesty's Secret Service should be told the truth about this affair."

"No, I guess not," Ron agreed.

"Yes. I'd rather not have to deal with more spies," Hermione added.

"So, we apparate into the plane, stun everyone, grab him and vanish again?" wizarding Ron asked.

"I have no doubt that the people in the plane - sent directly from Russia by President Putin - will be ready for an attack," Dumbledore retorted. "And leaving a plane with stunned crew and security personnel seems a little too public for a mission that requires discretion."

"They wouldn't suspect a thing," Ron's counterpart protested.

"I think you underestimate them - and President Putin. Should the Russians miraculously lose Mr Ivanovich at the airport, they would be interrogated extensively - something, unless I am mistaken, which could affect an obliviated memory."

"Yes," Hermione chimed in. "We can't just kidnap Ivanovich and obliviate everyone. We need to kidnap him in a way that won't require memory modification."

"Attack the car on the way to the airport?" Ron suggested. "We've got plausible deniability, and we could probably stage things so that they'll suspect a Russian faction is behind it." Luna probably knew a few oligarchs that would deserve being investigated by the FSS and FIS.

"Their route will doubtless be covered extensively by cameras - Her Majesty's Government has become very fond of public surveillance since I retired," Dumbledore told him. "I don't think we could plan an attack on the fly that wouldn't run afoul of the surveillance at some point."

"But infiltrating an aeroplane would be even more difficult, wouldn't it?" Ron's counterpart said.

"I've got a few ideas about that, actually." Dumbledore flashed a sly smile. "But I think we should call the others." he checked his watch. "The plane is still an hour out. I can have it delayed a little longer if needed. But our time is not unlimited."

That meant disturbing Harry and Ginny. And Ron knew who would have to do that. Great. He sighed and stood. "I'll get Harry and my sister."

"I'll fetch Sirius," Hermione said.

"I'll call Miss and Miss Lovegood," Dumbledore added, pulling out a mobile phone from his jacket.

* * *

Ron knocked three times on Harry's door, then called out: "Harry? Ginny? It's me, Ron!"

"Go away!" he heard the faint voice of his sister reply.

"What's happened?" Ron's friend was more sensible, of course, and had already realised that something had gone wrong.

"We've got a situation. Come to the living room," he told them.

"That will take…"

"How urgent is it?" Harry asked, interrupting Ginny. That wouldn't improve her mood.

"Very urgent," Ron replied. "See you there."

He quickly went to the living room, where Hermione and the others had gathered. Sirius was leaning against the fireplace, Dumbledore was sitting at the table, the Lunas occupied one of the couches, Ron's counterpart was occupying an armchair and Hermione had been waiting at the door.

"They're coming," he announced.

"Good. Mr Potter is still monitoring the situation," Dumbledore said. "The car is expected to leave as soon as the plane gets permission to land. Which has been slightly delayed thanks to an acquaintance of mine."

And there came Harry and Ginny - in wrinkled, hastily pulled on clothes. Ron almost had a flashback to that memorable evening when Molly and Arthur had decided to make a surprise visit following a reception in London.

"Not a word," Ginny hissed as she walked past him - she must have remembered that evening as well.

He still smirked - at her and Harry's backs.

Dumbledore quickly filled them in. "As I've already told the others, President Putin had Mr Ivanovich arrested and has sent a plane to transport him back to Russia for what I believe will be a very thorough, possibly enhanced, interrogation. They'll be transporting him to the airport any minute now. Interception en route is not advisable due to the risk of being observed and collateral damage. Attacking the plane at the airport is equally inadvisable."

"Infiltrate the plane and strike mid-flight?" Harry suggested.

"I believe after our mission in Moscow, they will have strict protocols in place that will make it difficult to infiltrate the plane." Dumbledore inclined his head. "And given the lengths to which they went to hermetically seal off President Putin's office, I believe that infiltrating the plane is, while not impossible, not our best course of action." He smiled. "No, I think it would be best to use a few of Messrs Weasley's marvellous magical devices."

Ron heard Hermione groan next to him.

"Oh! They will be so happy to hear that! Which one are we using?" Wizarding Luna clapped her hands together, bouncing on her seat.

"I was thinking of combining the Skiving Snackboxes with the delivery system of the Deadly Distractions," Dumbledore said.

Oh. Oh! "You want the crew to get sick and have them land at a German airport," Ron said.

"Precisely." Dumbledore nodded at him. "They will, even if impaired by a magical illness, pick an airport at random - within the confines of German Air Traffic Control - and, therefore, not expect a trap on the very tarmac there."

"And if they won't land on German - or Belgian - soil?" Hermione said. "The Skiving Snackboxes are, ultimately, harmless."

"In that case, the more lethal selections of the Deadly Distraction should ensure that the plane, and with it, Mr Ivanovich, don't reach Russia." Dumbledore wasn't smiling any more.

"But…" Hermione bit her lower lip.

"We cannot risk President Putin realising that his mind and memory have been manipulated," the old man said.

"He'd launch nukes. No, he'd have a nuke or three delivered by 'Islamist terrorists'," Sirius said.

Dumbledore tilted his head. "I'm not convinced that it would lead to a nuclear attack - although in such a situation, the surviving members of Her Majesty's Government wouldn't be fooled by such a ruse - but President Putin would be forced to react to the perceived threat, and an escalating conflict between two nuclear powers would be an almost certainty." He looked at the others in the room. "We cannot let that plane reach Russia with Mr Ivanovich on board as long as his memories remain unchanged."

"I'll prepare the devices," Hermione said.

"No. let me do it," Ron's counterpart cut in. "I know them best, and you can work on how to smuggle them aboard a muggle aeroplane."

Ron saw Hermione stiffen for a moment, then she nodded - still a little reluctantly. "Yes, you're right. Here." She handed the other Ron the devices under discussion. The wizard looked a little surprised - but pleased.

"We've got blueprints of the plane, but we have to assume that it was modified," Dumbledore said. "Nevertheless, there are limits to the sort of modifications you can make to a plane without damaging crucial components. Fortunately, that includes the ventilation system and cockpit."

Ah. That sounded like a workable plan. A plan that would, if it worked, avoid the cold-blooded murder of the aircrew and Ivanovich. And the risk of the plane crashing into a populated area - Lockerbie had proven that just because something was unlikely didn't mean it wouldn't happen.

But it was a mission for wizards and witches.

He pressed his lips together, briefly clenching his teeth. What mattered was that the mission succeeded, not who did it. The lives of his whole family depended on this. Perhaps the lives of countless families, should the worst occur.

But… "So we'll be moving to Germany?" Ron asked,

"To a staging area, yes," Dumbledore replied. "Ready to strike. It would be best if President Putin never noticed our ruse - and our manipulation - but if we can't achieve that, we should at least avoid any hint of advanced technology or magic. We don't want him to even begin to suspect that we have means at our disposal that he can't match."

"We're going to impersonate paramedics?" Harry asked.

"A sort of assistant Healer," Hermione explained to her friends in a low voice.

"Those who can play that role convincingly," Dumbledore said. Which excluded all the wizards and witches except for Hermione. And definitely included Harry and Ron, since they had received a remarkably comprehensive first aid course while working for CI5. Remarkably useful, too, given Harry's tendency to bite off more than he could chew.

Ron wondered - privately, and not for the first time - if this was just coincidence, or if Dumbledore had read him like a book.

The old man smiled at Ron as he got up from the chair. "Let's go, then!"

* * *

**Heathrow, London, Britain, February 4th, 2006**

"Oh! That's a huge aeroplane! I didn't know they built them that big!" wizarding Luna exclaimed.

Ron glanced at the plane at which she was pointing. "That's an Airbus A380," he told her. "The biggest passenger plane ever built."

"Oh! We should fly in one!"

Wizarding Luna was selling their cover very well - mostly because she was genuinely enthusiastic about the planes. Ron smiled as she stared at a Boeing 747, trying to compare its size to the Airbus. It also made it easier for him to play his role.

And it made it easier for Ron to watch and wait while the others risked their lives.

He would probably never grow used to watching his friends go on a dangerous mission without feeling guilty about staying safely home - or, in this case, on an observation platform disguised as a plane spotter. It wasn't a bad thing, he'd found - he wouldn't become another Dumbledore shuffling people, and even friends, around in his games.

"They're going in," Luna reported. Unlike Ron, she'd already been shrunk and was in the van serving as a staging ground - in case the wizards and Hermione suddenly needed a hacker.

He tensed. He couldn't help it. Even with magic, so much could go wrong. What if it was a trap? Putin might be willing to sacrifice a plane and its crew to get them. And to put pressure on Britain for an 'unprovoked attack'. Perhaps they had carbon monoxide dispensers to kill vermin and insects entering the plane? Wait, Bubble-Head Charms would prevent that.

He sighed - he had spent too much time watching paranoid Russians; he was starting to think like them.

Although that might also just be Moody's training coming to the fore in this sort of situation.

He studied the smaller jet in the corner. So far, the guards outside hadn't reacted as though they suspected anything. And those crew members of whom he could catch glimpses through the windows didn't seem to be fighting anyone, either.

He slowly released his breath - it seemed as if this part of the plan was working.

* * *

**Flughafen Tegel, Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006**

"Isn't this cutting it a little too close?" Ginny asked as they disembarked from the Phoenix Gruppe private jet. "If the fake illness doesn't work, they'll be halfway to Russia before the lethal stuff kicks in."

"That means they'll crash in Poland," Ron told her. "And that means there'll likely be trouble between Poland and Russia as a result." Something Grindelwald probably wouldn't mind at all. "Besides, we needed the time to overtake them so we'd have enough of a margin to set up things here." Fortunately, the Russian jet wasn't nearly as fast as the VIP transports of Phoenix Gruppe. It wasn't as if they could leave such an operation to others - Dumbledore's assets could still be compromised, and that threat would remain until he managed to dose every suspect with Veritaserum.

"Then let's get on with it," Ginny said. "We need to be disguised as good little German paramedics, right?"

"The uniforms depend on where exactly the jet lands," Harry reminded her.

"I can still put on my wig and makeup - and yours!" Ron's sister retorted with a toothy smile.

"You could use Polyjuice Potion; then you wouldn't have to bother with that," Ron's counterpart chimed in.

"And we would be endangering innocent muggles," Hermione told him as she left the jet. "Putin would hunt them down and interrogate them. Now let's go and get ready."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were back in the plane, putting on makeup while the aircraft was being refuelled - just in case the Russian plane ended up somewhere unexpected. According to their flight plan, the Russians would be near Berlin when the Skiving Snackboxes kicked in, but the pilots might be too stubborn to land at the first opportunity. Or use a pretext to refuse to land at the airport to which the German air traffic control would reroute them after they reported an in-flight medical emergency.

They should have split up - sending a wizard or witch to each corner of Germany, so they could gather the others rapidly anywhere nearby, but they didn't have more than one fast jet ready.

Well, they'd manage. If they couldn't impersonate an ambulance crew, they'd get to their target in a clinic. And Berlin was the best choice to gather, since there they would be able to stop the Russians from disappearing into their embassy.

"There!" Ginny declared. "You now look like a Spaniard."

Ron checked a mirror and frowned. "I look like someone with a bad spray-on tan."

"It'll look good enough on camera," she retorted. "Besides, it matches the fake moustache."

"It doesn't look bad," Hermione chimed in with an encouraging but not entirely honest-looking smile.

"Thanks," Ron told her, deadpan.

"Hey! I did all the work," Ginny objected.

He turned to her "Thanks," he repeated himself.

"Hey!"

"Now please do my makeup." Hermione stepped forward.

That seemed to distract, if not mollify, Ginny, and Ron focused on his gear. A stun gun, obviously, was perfect for the close quarters he expected. A pistol in case they had to shoot it out. A knife, as always. Flash-bang grenades? Couldn't hurt.

He smirked at his own joke, then went through the magical equipment. Potions first, then the more exotic items.

By the time he was done, Hermione's skin tone matched the platinum-blonde wig she was wearing. Ron frowned. "Is that one of Ginny's wigs?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, "Why?"

He sighed. "That's from one of her old costumes. She once went to a costume party as one of her Russian competitors."

Ginny sniffed. "My fans loved it!"

"They loved the pictures." He looked at Hermione. "There was a pool."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. That was Harry's reaction as well, I think."

Ginny huffed and went to the back of the plane, where Harry, whom she had disguised first, was going through more gear.

Then Dumbledore interrupted them. "I hate to interrupt, but I've just received news: The Russian plane has announced a medical emergency and been diverted to Berlin-Tegel."

"Great!" Ron smiled widely. That was the perfect airport for their mission. Finally, something was going according to plan!

But they had to hurry. He grabbed the paramedic uniform used by Berlin's emergency services and stuffed it in a sports bag, then left the plane and headed to one of the waiting SUVs. Ginny was already there, in the driver's seat.

Luna's voice sounded over the radio: "According to the tower, the Russians are on final approach. They'll land in fifteen minutes."

That would be cutting it close. Quite close. The prepared ambulance was in a garage about ten minutes away. If you drove quickly. Ginny gunned the engine as soon as Harry and Hermione had joined him.

"I'm in position," wizarding Harry reported. He would be on his broom, hovering over the waiting emergency services at the airport.

"I'm almost at the truck!" Sirius said over the radio. "And I'm keeping this bike!"

"I'd prefer to offer you another of the same model, rather than a potentially compromised bike, Mr Black," Dumbledore told him.

"It wouldn't be the same. We're bonding here."

Ron couldn't tell if Sirius had made an awful Bond pun or was falling in love with a motorbike. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be able to tell, either.

"The airport's called for two ambulances," Luna said.

"They won't risk handing over Mr Ivanovich to the German authorities," Dumbledore replied over the radio. "But they might use the pilots and cabin crew as distractions."

"We only need Ivanovich," Hermione reminded them. "Keep an eye on where he goes."

"Or where he is dragged to." Ron grinned on the way to the garage.

"Two limousines just left the embassy," wizarding Ron cut in. "I'm following them."

"The plane's five minutes out. They've got the fire brigade on stand by." Luna sounded almost like an announcer. "Oh! There's also the press! Yay!" Or not.

"Oh, goodie!" That was wizarding Luna chiming in. "Think I can join them? I've got my press pass from The Quibbler as credentials!"

"I think it's a little too late to change our plan, Luna."

"Aw."

Ron was shaking his head when they entered the private garage, and Ginny brought the SUV to a stop near the waiting ambulance.

Showtime.

* * *

**Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006**

"They've touched down…. Looks like… yes, they're braking," wizarding Harry reported.

That meant that the Skiving Snackboxes hadn't impaired the pilots to the point of making them crash the plane. Ron nodded, relieved.

"The ambulances are approaching the jet - and some police officers," the wizard went on. "And some… soldiers?"

Soldiers? "Perhaps they're afraid of a biological weapon?" Ron speculated. "An entire crew getting sick… that must be suspicious."

"I would hope that the German government would be suspicious of the Russians," Dumbledore said, "but their track record suggests otherwise, unfortunately. Let me check the camera feed… ah. Those are technically soldiers, but I think it would be more appropriate to classify them as special police forces."

"The GSG9?" Ron asked.

"I cannot confirm their unit from this distance, alas. But it would behove us to assume that they are. Though their presence is likely a coincidence."

It was a good thing they hadn't planned to make a move against the plane on the tarmac. Ron didn't want to tangle with the Grenzschutzgruppe - they'd earned their fame for foiling the Mogadishu hijacking, after all.

"Any sign of Ivanovich?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," his counterpart replied.

"They won't move him until the embassy's limousines have arrived," Ron said. "Where are they?"

"Stuck in traffic," wizarding Ron reported. "They'll take some more time."

"The journalists are reporting the incident," Luna said. "Check the local news."

Ron would, if he spoke German - since the fake ambulance wasn't equipped with a TV, the only media available would be the radio, which would be in German. "Just fill us in."

"Oh. They're just saying what Harry's already told us."

"The pilots are leaving the plane - and entering the ambulances." Wizarding Harry sounded excited. "How much longer for the limousines?"

"They've just about reached the airport," Ron's counterpart replied. "But the police have stopped them."

"I have no doubt that their diplomatic immunity will prevail," Dumbledore said, "but our operation may be a little delayed."

A little more time to set things up wouldn't go amiss, in Ron's opinion. Stressed people made more mistakes, so he'd prefer it if the Russians were the ones being stressed.

Ten minutes later, the limousines approached the plane - apparently, the ambassador himself had intervened. On Putin's direct orders, no doubt.

"Mr Potter, do you have eyes on Mr Ivanovich?"

"The cabin crew is carrying two people out - but both have their heads covered. I can buzz them and make it look like a gust of wind."

"I would advise against that," Dumbledore retorted. "Can you identify one or the other?"

"Cast a diagnosis spell and see which of the two is sedated," Hermione interjected.

"Good idea!"

A minute later, wizarding Harry reported. "Alright, I stuck the thing you gave me to the car with Ivanovich inside - just as he vomited on to the back bench."

"Ew!" Luna said. "But I'm tracking the car now. And here are the possible routes."

"Thank you. Just tell me which car to ram," Sirius chimed in.

"It's the one in the back."

"But check before you ram it," Hermione added.

"Yes, yes." Sirius sounded annoyed - and under pressure. "I have done this before, you know."

"By accident," Harry told him with a chuckle.

His godfather scoffed. "Just you watch!"

"They've left the airport now. Ivanovich is still in the second car." Ron's counterpart reported.

"I'm in position," Sirius said.

"Uh… they've changed routes." Luna said. "They're… going down another street. You need to move! Sending you the new data!"

"Bloody Russians!" Sirius cursed.

Meanwhile, Ginny had entered the steady stream of traffic with the fake ambulance and was circling the block. Ron tried to track Sirius's progress on his phone, but it wasn't fast enough.

"I'm almost at the new position!"

"They've changed courses again."

"Again? I'm going to crush one of the cars beneath this truck!"

"No, you won't!" Hermione cut in. "Just ram the cars."

"We're getting the device out of the plane now," wizarding Harry said. "Before the other Russians or the police enter."

"The police shouldn't be entering the plane," Luna told him. "It's flagged as a diplomatic vessel."

"I sure hope so," wizarding Harry replied.

Ron gritted his teeth.

"Almost there… I see them!" Sirius announced. "Now they shall reap what they have sowed!"

"No change at the plane," Luna said - cool as a cucumber, or so it seemed.

"We've retrieved the device."

Then the sound of shrieking metal, screams and an air horn filled their radio channel.

Sirius had driven the truck into the Russian cars.

And Ginny accelerated as if the ambulance were a sports car. Which it definitely wasn't. But she did her best - or worst - to make it seem that way, taking the next turn at far too high a speed even before she remembered to switch on the siren and warning lights.

They ran a red light across a junction, and a Mercedes slammed on its brakes but still had to steer to the side, ramming a parked BMW. Fortunately, the sirens drowned out the car theft alert.

"Ginny!" Ron snapped. "Try not to get us into an accident on the way to the accident!"

"We need to be there before the cops are!"

"We need to get there, period!"

"I know what I'm doing! Who drove our getaway car in Kosovo?"

"I was shrunken at the time!" Ron retorted, holding on to the roll bar. "And you managed to get Hermione and me thrown out of the car!"

"That was your own fault!"

"Focus on the mission," Hermione snapped.

They were almost at the accident site, anyway. Just two more hair-raising turns that made Ron wonder if Ginny shouldn't have become a racing driver. Or if she wore a white suit and helmet on TV.

Then they were slowing down, stopping in front of an impressive display of wrecked cars and torn metal. Sirius had managed to catch the two limousines as planned - when they were waiting at a red light - and rammed the leading car with so much force that it ended up impaled from below by a pillar blocking the pavement before crushing the front of the second car as if it were made out of tin foil.

A crowd already surrounded the wreckage, but Ron couldn't spot any police yet. They wouldn't be long, though. He burst out of the ambulance, one hand pulling the stretcher behind him, and yelled: "Platz da! Platz da!"

The crowd parted for him at once, and he rushed towards the second car, which should be carrying Ivanovich. The passenger compartment looked alright - mostly; the driver's had its door caved in by a sturdy flower pot that had been placed on the pavement - but if the Russians hadn't secured Ivanovich with a seatbelt…

He pulled on the car's door, but it was stuck. Harry was already trying the other side, with the same result. Well, there was an alternative. Ron pulled out a small hammer and struck the door window.

It didn't do much - armoured glass, he realised with a muttered curse. Well, they had come prepared for that. He stashed the hammer and pulled out a much bigger, and much more colourful, one. Smashing Smasher wasn't the most original or funny name, but it did describe what the thing did perfectly. It took only one blow for the window to crumble to countless small fragments.

And Ron found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. "Diplomatenfahrzeug," the Russian announced with a heavy accent. "Geh weg!"

Ron wasn't about to go away. "Ambulanz!" he retorted.

"Geh weg!"

Then Harry smashed the window on the other side. The Russian turned his head, distracted, and Ron grabbed his gun, pointing the muzzle away from him and used it to smash the man's hand into the remains of the window until the Russian dropped the gun. Then Ron dropped him by grabbing his head and smashing it against the door as well.

The sight of the gun on the ground sent the crowd back. Judging by the growing volume of the murmurs, they were speculating about the Russian mob.

"Hey!" Ron heard, followed by a string of angry Russian from the other car - Russian reinforcements were on the way. And they had their guns drawn. Ron saw three men charging towards him and Harry.

That was too much for the crowd. Panicking, most of them ran away, screaming.

"Hilfe!"

"Die sind bewaffnet!"

"Polizei!"

Ron whirled, drawing as he turned and dropping to one knee. His own gun was pointed at the leading Russian before the man could bring his own to bear, and Ron shot him twice in the chest.

The Russian stumbled back - bulletproof vest. Ron's next shot hit him in the chin, and he collapsed with a wrecked throat.

On the other side of the car, Harry was shooting as well, but he had a worse angle and the Russian dived for cover.

Then Sirius opened up with a Kalashnikov from the truck's cabin - behind them.

"The police are on the way!" Luna alerted them.

"Get Ivanovich!" Hermione snapped through the radio.

Ron was already moving to the other side to help Harry drag Ivanovich out. The man was sedated, and dragging a limp man was always a pain.

But together they pulled him through the broken window and back to the ambulance. Sirius was already there.

"Hit it!" Ron yelled as he jumped in after Harry and Ivanovich and closed the doors.

Ginny made the tyres squeal before they shot away.

"So much for delicate and discreet," Ron muttered as he grabbed the stretcher to keep himself from being thrown around by his sister's driving.

Sirius, who had wedged himself between the bench and the wall, laughed. "Sometimes, you just have to shoot your way in and out."

"Luna?" he heard Harry over the radio. "What're the police doing?"

"They're still reacting to the shooting," she replied.

Good. "How's Ivanovich?" Ron asked.

Hermione, who had been casting spells while steadying herself with a hand on the bar mounted in the ceiling to hang infusions from, replied: "He's sedated and will have bruises, but otherwise unharmed."

He'd been lucky, then. Or not, depending on what Dumbledore had planned for the Russian.

"We're almost at the garage!" Ginny yelled.

Good. Ron ran a scanner over Ivanovich's body. "No locator beacon as far as I can tell," he announced.

"The police are looking for an ambulance, now," Luna reported. "And they've upgraded us to terrorists."

At least they had been prepared for that. If discretion failed, misdirection replaced it, as Dumbledore had said. Once the Germans found the material Sirius had left in the truck, and once they tracked the weapons, the Germans would be looking for Chechen terrorists. Putin would know differently, of course, but the public would blame the Chechens.

He looked out of the tinted rear windows. People were staring as the ambulance turned and entered the small garage. "We'll be made in a minute, tops," he told the others as the doors closed behind them.

"We won't need more than that," Hermione replied. "Sirius!" She grabbed for the older man's hand, placed her other hand on the sedated Ivanovich and disapparated.

"Alright, let's get out and sanitise the ambulance," Harry said.

Ron chuckled at the unintended pun as he left the ambulance and grabbed a white phosphorus grenade. A Russian model, of course. Kidnapping, and now arson - he was racking up the felonies. Interfering with a criminal investigation, too.

Hermione reappeared and grabbed Ginny and Harry. "I'll be back!"

Ron nodded, but she had already disappeared. He fired a few shots into the fuel tank of the vehicle. Looking out the small window in the door, he saw that the people on the street were running away. The police would be here soon, then. Not soon enough, though.

He readied the grenade as fuel started to leak.

Hermione reappeared again. "Ron!"

He nodded at her, pulled the pin of the grenade and lobbed it into the ambulance.

Hermione took him away by Side-Along-Apparition before the grenade went off.

* * *

**Flughafen Tegel, Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006**

They reappeared in the hangar where their plane was parked, and Ron managed not to stumble or show any other kind of reaction to the magical travel. He looked round. "Are we…?"

"The hangar's protected by a Muggle-Repelling Charm," Hermione told him. "Harry and Ron are on their way to Dumbledore and Grindelwald's villa, and will come back to fetch us as soon as they reach it."

"All according to plan, then," Ron replied.

"Apart from shooting it out with the Russians in a German street during rush hour," Hermione said, "everything went according to plan, yes."

Ron chuckled. "No one got hurt - well, none of us."

She frowned. "I could have stunned them."

"And tipped off Putin that we've got magic? Or really advanced technology?" Harry, who approached them with Ginny, shook his head.

Ron nodded. "And we couldn't really shoot to wound. Not against special agents." Who had also been wearing body armour.

"Who cares about a few dead KGB goons?" Sirius shrugged. "I bet Ivanovich wasn't the first man they'd kidnapped."

Hermione didn't look like she agreed, but she didn't contradict him.

Before anyone else could comment, the Lunas arrived, smiling. "They've already found the ambulance and are now locking down the entire area! We'll have a perfect alibi!" Luna announced. "And we get to see how the German government reacts to potential terrorist attacks."

"And what would we do with that knowledge?" Ron asked.

"It's knowledge for knowledge's sake. Unless the German government turns fascist and we have to fight it."

"Wouldn't they change procedures in that case?" Hermione asked.

"Institutional inertia is a thing. Especially in Germany. Or so I've been told," Luna retorted.

"Ah."

Fortunately, wizarding Harry and wizarding Ron reappeared in the hangar, apparently having reached the villa - or the safe house - already. They took the Lunas, Hermione and Ginny with them.

Half a minute later, the witches and wizards returned to end the spell on the hangar and ferry Ron and the others, as well as Ivanovich, to Dumbledore's villa.

* * *

**Villa Sonnenschein, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006**

"Rest assured, the villa's not connected to the Phoenix Gruppe or Gellert and myself in any way. We're perfectly safe here," Dumbledore said as he took a glass of whiskey and a seat in a large yet still cosy living room.

"Good to know," Harry said. "Putin must be spitting nails. He might retaliate against your group."

"Oh, he has to retaliate - the Russian public will demand it," Dumbledore replied. "But with the 'evidence' we left, they will focus on the Chechens. And that means Putin will have to move against them to show the Russians that any attack on them will be avenged."

"So the Chechen will suffer for our mistakes," Harry said.

"The Chechen terrorists will," Dumbledore replied. "No great loss. With a little luck, they'll keep Putin's forces too busy to bother us."

"Russian counter-terrorism doesn't strike me as caring much about civilian victims," Hermione said with a frown.

"With Germany affected, the eyes of the world will linger for some time on Chechenia. That should curb the Russians' more indiscriminately violent responses." The old spymaster smiled.

But would it curb them enough? Ron had his doubts. "What about Ivanovich?" he asked.

"He should regain consciousness soon," Dumbledore replied. "And then we can debrief him properly."

"What if Putin blames us for the attack?" Harry asked.

"He can't do that without drawing attention to his own attacks on us. And he will be worried about what Mr Ivanovich will have told us and done for us, since he, obviously, was a spy rescued by his backers." Dumbledore grinned. "I have a feeling that Mr Ivanovich would be cooperative since he will now be considered a traitor regardless. Not that we have the time to wait for his cooperation. However, despite anything he might do in the future, Putin will never trust him again."

So the old spymaster had managed to acquire a Russian turncoat. He might even have planned for this outcome. "And after he's told us everything he knows?" Ron asked.

"That depends on what he's done so far," Dumbledore replied.

Or, Ron thought with more than a little cynicism, whatever would further Dumbledore's plans better. He didn't think the Russian would survive for long, though.

Which was a stark reminder that, for all his jovial smiles, Dumbledore wasn't the harmless old man he liked to portray himself as.

He glanced at Hermione, but she was looking at the books on the shelves behind Dumbledore.

* * *

_The Headmaster had a lot of books. A lot. She tried not to be obvious as she looked round and tried to read the words on the books' spines - tilting her head would give the game away - but she so longed to read then. All of them. That one in the corner was a guide to Alchemy! And this one looked like a first edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'!_

"_Have you already finished with the school library, Miss Granger?"_

"_What?" She gasped. Of course the Headmaster would notice - he was Dumbledore! "I'm sorry, sir, but the books are… fascinating," she managed to blurt out._

_He smiled gently. "Books generally are fascinating. They open new worlds to us, provided we are daring enough to brave them."_

_What did that mean? Did he think she was too timid? The Hat had chosen her for Gryffindor, which meant she was brave! "Sir?"_

"_Not that that would be a flaw of yours, Miss Granger. Quite the contrary, in fact." His smile didn't change, but her heart sank into her stomach._

_Oh. It looked like last night they hadn't been as sneaky as they had thought they were. But it had been necessary - Hagrid couldn't have kept a dragon in a wooden hut. But now they were caught, and it was time to pay. She grimaced. "I need a lawyer, I think." A good one. Breaking the law against dragon breeding was much, much more serious than breaking curfew!_

"_Oh, no, Miss Granger - we are merely talking about hypotheticals here. Although should you have suffered a bite as well, please visit the Infirmary before your wound gets as bad as Mr Weasley's."_

"_Hypothetical?" She blinked._

"_I am quite sure that you and your friends didn't smuggle a dragon into and out of Hogwarts."_

_Oh. He knew everything. "Sir, it was all my idea!" That would protect Harry and Ron. "From start to finish."_

_He held up a hand. "I am familiar with the circumstances, and I approve of your friends' initiative. You might have picked a better location for the drop, and more planning would not have gone amiss either, but I cannot fault you for having the courage to do what is right instead of what is easy. Too few people, of all ages, have that kind of courage."_

_Oh. He was… supporting their actions._

_Hermione blinked. That would explain a lot…_


	58. Chapter 58: The Interrogation

Once more, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 58: The Interrogation**

**Villa Sonnenschein, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006**

Hermione shook her head, blinking for a moment, before she turned to Dumbledore. "Sorry, sir," she said, "I was distracted by your library."

"By its lack of certain subjects, I presume?" Dumbledore replied, smiling. "It wouldn't be a very good safe house if a single glance at the library would reveal that its owners have a profound and professional interest in spycraft."

"Does that mean you have a second, secret library?" Hermione asked, and Ron was almost sure that her eyes lit up at the thought.

The old spymaster chuckled. "In a manner of speaking - it's all digital, though."

"Oh." Hermione didn't quite crumble, but her enthusiasm waned almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "As much as I love handling actual books, like any true bibliophile, digital editions simply have too many advantages when you're a frequent traveller."

"And they can be replaced far more easily," she admitted.

"Provided you have made backups," Ron pointed out - mostly to take part in the conversation, if he was honest. He wasn't a bookworm, but he was the most avid reader in his family. And Harry's.

"That goes without saying," Dumbledore agreed. "No one should neglect proper electronic security."

"Too many do, though," Luna cut in. "Which is a good thing when those who do are people of interest."

"Indeed. The proliferation of electronic data storage has opened a number of possibilities in my old profession."

"Your old and current profession," Ron corrected him.

"Quite, although I see myself more as an interested private citizen these days. An amateur, so to speak."

"I don't think that the current administration would agree with that assessment," Sirius commented.

Dumbledore's smile became a more sly grin. "They would be mistaken. Technically, of course."

"Speaking of mistakes," Sirius said, "how will MI5 and MI6 react to this incident? In your opinion, of course." Ron had to suppress a grin at Sirius's sarcastic tone - he wasn't the only one who was a little tired of Dumbledore's way with words.

The old man nodded, acknowledging the point. "Privately, I like to believe that they are pleased with what they will see as retaliation for Putin's attack on Britain. They will also be a little envious, of course, that they hadn't been the ones to pull this off."

"Envious enough to move against us?" Harry asked.

"They will attempt to increase the pressure and surveillance, but, thanks to the outcome of our mission, I am optimistic that I can counter such efforts with the offer to share the intel our turncoat will give us."

"The government won't be happy, though," Sirius pointed out.

"Plausible deniability is a two-edged sword, of course. But the unwritten rules of my old and current business are quite clear in that the only thing that matters is success. And, even though we weren't as discreet as we had planned, we succeeded today."

"We also created a lot of trouble for Germany and Britain," Sirius retorted.

"Not as much as we created for President Putin," Dumbledore replied.

"But won't he come after us even more determinedly?" Hermione asked.

"I think he won't, provided we prepare Mr Ivanovich's memory accordingly."

So the guy would be sacrificed.

Dumbledore showed his teeth. "Thanks to his position in the Russian embassy in London, Mr Ivanovich was perfectly placed to manipulate both the British and the Russians in order to rise to the top himself. He even managed to convince us poor saps that we should rescue him if things went wrong... only to promptly escape before we discovered the truth about his plans."

"And Putin will believe that?" Harry didn't sound as if he was convinced.

"He will already suspect a traitor. His paranoia will prompt him to accept the story, once he has additional evidence and the traitor in custody." Dumbledore spread his hands. "It will also save some face, so to speak, if one of his own men and not a retired British spy was the mastermind behind the entire affair."

"Ah." Sirius nodded. "But if the news spreads, then your former colleagues will think that you were manipulated and deceived as well."

"Some will, no doubt. Others? They know me too well not to at least doubt such a story." Dumbledore chuckled. "Not that it matters either way - I'm under no illusion that my sterling record and long career grants me any influence with the current administration, so whether they consider me a mastermind or a gullible old fool won't matter. Money talks, as the saying goes, and old favours and secrets work as well - or better - in our business."

"And in Germany as well?"

"As well or better - there were a lot of secrets to keep, after the war."

Blackmailing Nazis for leverage… Well, no one ever said that the spy business was a nice business. "So, how long will we stay here?"

"Not long at all. Although having Mr Ivanovich escape in Germany would be best, I think. After his interrogation, of course," Dumbledore replied. "However, it might take a while until he wakes up. The Russians didn't skimp on the sedatives when they dosed him."

"That sounds a little careless," Ron said.

"I'm sure President Putin sent experts in their field to prepare our guest for transport."

Hermione frowned. "We could travel back right now and return here afterwards. We should be able to reach the location in Finland we used to travel to and from Russia by Apparition."

And from there, they knew the route back.

"I would prefer to stay here, though," Dumbledore said. "If we were observed in Britain, President Putin might suspect that we have the means to travel without being detected, and much faster than by plane." He spread his hands. "It's not as if we're in any more danger here than in Britain."

That was true. Probably.

"We don't have anything to do other than wait, then." Sirius yawned. "Unless you overlooked some bug on or in Ivanovich."

"I scanned him," Ron said.

"And we did it again upon arriving here - quite thoroughly," Dumbledore added. "Nevertheless, I don't think we should trust our security system to the point of not keeping an eye out."

"I'll cast a few spells," Hermione said.

"We'll help!" Wizarding Harry smiled as he and wizarding Ron stood.

"Beats sitting around doing nothing," Ron's counterpart added.

They had done enough, Ron thought. Magic made so many things easier. Or easy. "I'll take a nap," he announced.

Hermione smiled at him, "I'll join you once I'm done."

"And we'll keep an eye on the Russian," Luna said. "Can't trust the tools of an authoritarian regime even when they've been betrayed by their leader and cut off. And sedated."

"Good." Dumbledore stood. "I think we should reconvene for dinner… say at six?"

"Who's going to cook?" Ron asked. He didn't think that Dumbledore would have a cook in the house, and ordering takeaway would be too dangerous.

"While I'm, by necessity, not a regular customer, I do know of several very good takeaways in Berlin," Dumbledore said. "It shouldn't raise any suspicion if one or two of those who can apparate go and fetch dinner, I think."

Ah. Well, that was true. Especially in disguise.

Ron nodded and left the living room, heading to the guest room assigned to Hermione and himself. He lay down on the bed and grabbed a magazine to read. Hermione wouldn't take long, after all.

She didn't. Fifteen minutes later - he was skimming an article on new developments in computer networks that was written from far too technical a perspective - she entered.

"All safe?" he asked.

She nodded and sat down on the bed. "We'll know if someone enters the property."

And they would. The best skills and technology in the world wouldn't defeat those spells. Although…

"Hm? What are you thinking?"

"I was planning how to defeat the spells. Would a drone be able to enter undetected?"

She blinked, then nodded. "Yes, it would. That needs to be remedied."

"I don't think that the Russians will deploy drones. They would have to find us in the first place. And that won't be easy with the entire German police force looking for suspicious armed people."

"That's true." She smiled, kicked off her shoes and lay down as well. "I guess the Russians' paranoia has rubbed off on me. Moody would be proud."

He snorted. "I'm not sure he'd be proud of what we're doing here." At her confused look, she added: "We're not acting like police officers. We're acting like spies. Or soldiers."

"Ah." She sighed. "I forgot that your Moody hadn't fought in two wars."

"He did hunt IRA terrorists in the 1970s," Ron pointed out. "And he hunted Riddle's cell in the 1980s."

"But those weren't wars. Not here, at least." She sighed again. "In Wizarding Britain, it was a war. The Aurors tried to treat it as a police action, first, in the seventies, when it started. But by the end of the decade, they were fighting a war. A dirty war. And when it started again in the nineties, the veterans went straight to war. We all did."

"Yes." He sounded lame, but there wasn't much else he could think of to say. So he reached over and pulled her into a hug.

They had a few hours for themselves, after all.

* * *

"Are you going to join the interrogation?" he asked later as he stared at the ceiling above their bed. "Once Ivanovich has woken up."

Pressed into his side, half on top of him, she sighed. "Are you?"

"I guess so." He was a trained interrogator, after all. He could be useful there, even with Veritaserum being used. Of course, Dumbledore had a few more decades on him where experience was concerned. But the old man wasn't infallible.

"I'll come as well, then."

He shrugged, half-heartedly so as not to dislodge her from his side. "It'll be more of the same, I guess. Corruption, abuse of power…".

"...murder and espionage?"

"Ivanovich might have been involved in the last attack on us," he pointed out. Ron was quite sure, actually - if Putin trusted the man enough to tell him about Hermione's research, then he would have been trusted enough to help attack the lab.

He felt her tense. "In a way, that would be a relief. I wouldn't have to feel bad about framing him and sending him to Putin, then."

"We aren't sending him to Putin," he told her. "Well, we aren't openly sending him. We want him to act naturally and to try and avoid the Russian snatchers."

She shuddered, and he felt a stab of guilt. "Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

But it was. He should've used a different word. Not one loaded with past grief. "In any case, we're not setting up innocent children for death, here."

"No, we aren't. But we are setting people up. Manipulating them and changing their memories." Hermione sighed again.

"They started it. Literally."

She didn't look convinced, though. "Well, we'll be done soon enough. And then our families will be safe."

"Yes." He nodded.

"At which point we can focus on fixing Azkaban and similar problems in Wizarding Britain."

"And on keeping the Lunas from turning this world upside-down?"

Hermione groaned in response. "Yes, that too. And the twins - both sets - also."

He winced. "I think I'd successfully repressed that until you reminded me."

She laughed at his weak joke. "Perhaps all of them will keep Dumbledore and Grindelwald too busy for any more of his schemes."

And pigs would fly. Wait, wizards probably had flying pigs. "They'll want to form their own wizarding group." Was that a coven? Or a cabal?

"I know." She sounded a bit angry. And frustrated. "And if we cut ties, they'll do it."

"They're the type to do it anyway," he pointed out, shifting so he could look at her.

She was frowning. "I know. Though if we don't cut ties - which would be difficult in any case - we should have some influence on whom they recruit."

"You're a bit of an optimist, aren't you?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "The closer you are, the more influence they'll have on you."

That earned him a glare. "Do you have a better plan?"

That was the crux of the matter. If they went their separate ways, Dumbledore and Grindelwald would likely use magic in various questionable ways - and would work on recreating the portal. If Hermione kept working with the old men, they'd have a huge amount of power due to his investment in the whole portal project. "No, I don't." Damned if they did, damned if they didn't. "But if you decide to keep working with them, milk them for everything they've got."

"It's not just my decision," she told him. "It's ours."

He smiled like an idiot upon hearing that. "Well, I think staying close to them is the better option." Less likely to get blindsided or treated as competition. Or enemies.

"Like having them provide the gold needed to abolish Azkaban?"

He suppressed a wince. That was a tricky question. "Unless you've got a plan to destroy the Dementors without anyone noticing, what are the alternatives?"

"I thought about opening a portal to a barren world and forcing them through it, but that isn't practical."

"In fantasy novels, banishing demons to another dimension never really works out. Unless they came from there."

"Fortunately, life isn't a fantasy novel." She sighed once more. "The problem is that as long as the Dementors are around, someone will think of using them - no matter how reprehensible and dangerous that is. Not that having private citizens paying for what should be a core task of the government is a good idea. But if we simply hand more money to the Ministry, then sooner or later, some short-sighted or corrupt politician will argue that the money being spent on a humane prison should instead be used to help victims, not criminals." She shook her head, her mane hitting the side of his face. "No, we must destroy the Dementors to settle this once and for all."

"Do you have a plan?"

"I'm working on it."

She didn't elaborate, which he took to mean that she didn't have a plan yet. But he was positive she would come up with one.

* * *

"Did you know about the Russian attack on Scotland beforehand?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Ivanovich replied in that potion-induced monotone.

"Did you help plan it?"

"Yes."

"Was that on President Putin's orders?"

"Yes."

"Were you planning another attack after this one?"

"Yes."

"On the same location?"

"No."

"What was the planned attack's objective?"

"Dr Granger."

Ron clenched his teeth. He had expected that, but to hear it confirmed… He glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at the Russian.

"Did you plan to kidnap her?" Dumbledore went on.

"Yes."

No surprise there.

"How did you plan to kidnap her?"

"By using hostages."

Again, no surprise.

"Was that your plan or President Putin's plan?"

"Mine."

"Who in Britain was involved in this plan?"

Ivanovich started to list names, both Russian and British. Ron didn't recognise any of them - except for a Detective Superintendent of the Met.

Dumbledore, though, shook his head, sighing. "It seems that the Russians have penetrated more of our government than I suspected. I knew that my successors were not as diligent as they should have been, the end of the Cold War notwithstanding, but this is worse than I had feared."

"On the other hand, you'll be able to do something about them," Ron said. "Turn some, use the others to feed Putin fake information…"

"Those ploys are far more effective when handled by a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service rather than by a retiree," the old man retorted. "Despite my great wealth and influence, I am still a civilian and not part of MI5 or MI6. I lack the knowledge of our operations necessary to use those assets to best effect. Officially and unofficially," he added. "And the amount of misinformation about Gellert, myself and the Phoenix Gruppe I could spread by using those traitors without tipping off President Putin to the fact that I have suborned his spies wouldn't be worth it."

Hermione shrugged. "But once again you'll be able to tweak the noses of your successors and detractors, won't you?"

The old man smiled. "Which will further antagonise them." With a chuckle, he added: "The price of success, I think. I can but hope that this will serve as a wake-up call. As God is my witness, we need one."

"I think this whole affair has already done that," Ron pointed out.

"You would think so, wouldn't you?" Dumbledore shook his head. "A few traitors in the police aren't nearly as shocking as traitors in the Civil Service - at least according to the government."

Ron hoped that the old man was joking but feared that he spoke the truth.

"That's very short-sighted," Hermione said. "If you control the police, you can control the Civil Service much more effectively."

"Indeed." Dumbledore nodded. "And with them, the budget. However, most ministers would prefer to skip the step of suborning the police and go straight to those who hold the purse strings."

Ron nodded in agreement. That certainly fit what he had heard from Dad and Percy - and older detectives in CI5. But… "Shouldn't we finish the interrogation?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, I think we should. I'm sure there's more information to be gained - much of it potentially devastating should it fall into the wrong hands."

Or the right hands, of course.

* * *

An hour later, Dumbledore had finished the interrogation. At a glance, Ron would say that Ivanovich's information would be enough to send two dozen people of influence to prison. If it were admissible in court, of course. Although if Dumbledore wanted, he could easily use the information from Ivanovich to find admissible proof of treason.

Ron wasn't holding his breath, though. Dumbledore was a spymaster, not a police officer.

"I trust any doubts about Mr Ivanovich deserving his planned fate have vanished."

And he was a little too smug sometimes.

Hermione, as expected, didn't like that. "He'll be tortured - which is not something anyone ever deserves - and likely killed."

"An unpleasant but necessary part of the plan, I assure you. I doubt that President Putin will be content with mere interrogation. And I don't believe that we will find a more fitting victim than Mr Ivanovich. However, I confess that I am more concerned about the potential risk of torture affecting your mental modifications than about Mr Ivanovich's fate."

"It's not as if we have many alternatives," Ron said. "Putin didn't exactly publish his information."

Hermione pressed her lips together before answering: "I will do my best to prepare for that eventuality and will keep the modifications to a minimum. Unless he suffers a complete mental breakdown, our families should be safe."

"I think so," Dumbledore told her. "If anything, President Putin should focus on myself and Gellert, should he, against expectations, come to distrust the information he will extract from Mr Ivanovich." The old man smiled. "And both of us are well prepared for that kind of attention."

Ron forced himself to smile even though he wanted to scowl. Now Hermione would feel obligated to the old man again. Dumbledore had probably planned for such an outcome.

* * *

**Expendable Safe House, Outskirts of Berlin, Germany, February 4th, 2006**

This house looked more like a safe house. Cheap furniture, pantry stocked with tins and other non-perishables - no MREs, though - and located in the sort of neighbourhood where you'd find very few surveillance cameras and where a bunch of new arrivals wouldn't attract too much attention. It would certainly help sell the story that Ivanovich was taken by Dumbledore's people and then managed to escape. On the other hand, any cop checking the house out would know at once it was a safe house. It lacked anything that would indicate that someone lived here, or had lived here.

Putin would believe that it was a safe house for spies. That there wouldn't be any trace of a car would only help to sell it - it couldn't be perfect, after all. A mystery or two would work well, especially with paranoid Russians.

He walked through the living room, past the door to the first bedroom. He didn't need or want to watch Hermione adjust the Russian's memories. Steps on the stairs made him tense for a moment before Harry appeared in the corridor.

"Upstairs is set;" his friend told him as he entered the room. "Won't fool a competent cop, though."

"It doesn't have to," Ron replied. "It just has to leave the right impression after the fire." After all, Dumbledore's hired men would try to avoid leaving traces, especially after Ivanovich escaped, and a fire was an effective way to ruin DNA traces.

"I know," Harry said, sitting down on the ugly couch. After a moment, he added: "If this works, what will you do?"

Ah. Ron shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "That depends on what Hermione does."

His friend snorted, and Ron rolled his eyes. "And what will you be doing? Playing Ginny's bodyguard?" His sister would love that.

"What about our plan to become private detectives?"

That had just been a way to calm Mum and Dad - mostly Mum - hadn't it? A legal fiction. "Technically, guarding Hermione and Ginny would fit that job description."

"I'm not a fan of legal fictions," Harry said. "And working as a bodyguard for Hermione would mean working for Dumbledore."

"Only at the beginning," Ron retorted. Money shouldn't be a problem in the long run. Not with magic and a portal. Hell, just offering the same treatment Dumbledore and Grindelwald had received to a single billionaire would set her up for life.

"And then you'll work for her?"

He rolled his eyes at the question. "Why not?" Not everyone inherited a fortune. Or had a rich godfather. "People will think the same about you if you're officially Ginny's bodyguard." Harry might be rich, but Ginny was loaded. As much as she hated being reminded of it, she made more money with advertising than in tournaments - never mind that the prize money she did earn was great. "Gold digger!"

Harry laughed. "I can always claim to be independently wealthy."

Ron shrugged again, a little forcedly. "I bet Hermione's life will be more exciting than Ginny's, though."

"Full of magic, too." Harry looked at him.

Ron knew what his friend meant. "I can handle it." He didn't have magic, but he had other qualities. There was a reason Harry and Ron were preparing the safe house - a wizard wouldn't know how to do it. All the magic in the other world wouldn't help if you didn't know what to do.

"If you're sure."

"I am." He was. Mostly. He grinned. "Besides, I'll get to travel the multiverse!"

He saw Harry's eyes widen - had his friend truly not thought about the implications? If you could open a portal to a different world, you could open a portal to yet another world, couldn't you?

"That's… a good point." Harry smiled.

"Try telling Ginny that," Ron told him with a faint smirk. His sister liked adventure, but she liked being a celebrity as much or more. She wouldn't give up her career as a pro tennis player, Ron knew.

And judging by Harry's sigh, his friend knew it as well.

"It wouldn't be any different from when we were working for CI5 and she was on tour," Ron said with an encouraging smile.

"But she's looking forward to that changing," Harry replied. "'More time for us', she said."

"Ah." Well, Harry would have to stand his ground. Ron doubted that Ginny wouldn't take the chance to travel through a portal whenever she wasn't on tour. But he also knew that trying to meddle in her relationships wasn't a good idea. Even - or especially - when it involved his best friend.

* * *

About an hour later, Hermione entered the living room. Ron took one look at her tight expression and swallowed the comment he had been about to make. "Done?" he asked.

She glared at him for a moment, then sighed, "Yes, I'm done. He thinks he was kidnapped by masked mercenaries, woke up here and then fought his way free when they started to suspect that he was planning to betray them."

"He'll remember getting shot and escaping the house?" Harry asked.

"Not in great detail, but the 'getting shot' part should explain that."

Ron nodded. "Yes, shock can do that."

"Let's hope he doesn't die from it," she said with a frown.

"He won't," Harry told her. "It will just be a flesh wound."

"Complications could still arise during treatment. Or he could manage to avoid being found and bleed out in a hidden corner," Hermione pointed out.

"The chance for that is very low," Ron replied.

"It could happen, though."

"If that happens, Putin should still assume that Ivanovich was a traitor and was silenced by Dumbledore's men," Ron said. "It wouldn't be as watertight, though."

She sighed again. "I just want this to be over. We've already done far too much. If we were in my world…"

Ron shrugged. "Well, we aren't. And Putin started this." Technically, Putin's former colleague, the late Kirikov, had done so, but Putin had taken over and escalated things.

"Yes." She glared at him for a moment. "And even if he completely believes what we've made him remember, we'll still have to be careful and limit our overt association with Dumbledore."

That was a plus in Ron's book. "That'll be easy thanks to Apparition."

"It's still a potential danger. We'll have to keep being careful."

Ron shrugged again. "We already had to be cautious. Some of the criminals we've arrested would like to get back at us."

"Or the relatives and friends of those we shot," Harry added. "It's not as if you won't have to worry about Death Eater remnants, right?"

"Well, that's true," Hermione admitted. "Sort of." She sighed once more. "At least the Fidelius Charm, once I am able to cast it, will help with that."

"Could you use that to deal with Azkaban?" Ron asked.

"Too many know about the island for the charm to hide it - and even if it worked, the Dementors would still be around, and it wouldn't stop them from leaving," Hermione said. "You'd need wards to keep them confined to the island, but such spells don't exist, or we wouldn't need the Patronus Charm to defend against them."

"Or such spells haven't been invented yet," Ron said with a smile.

She smiled in return but shook her head. "Spellcrafting is a tricky and dangerous venture. Luna's mother died due to a failed experiment in spellcrafting. I'm not saying that it's impossible, but it would take a long time. And even if I invented such a spell, that wouldn't make the Ministry give up on Azkaban - in fact, they would probably think it makes using Azkaban safer since the Dementors wouldn't be able to escape or bother the guards in protected areas."

"It all comes down to money, then?" Ron asked.

"Gold, yes."

Ron sighed. "So, you'll either have to rely on Dumbledore and Grindelwald's wealth or make a lot of gold yourself."

"Essentially, yes." Hermione grimaced. "There are ways to make money using magic in this world, like providing magical healthcare, but helping a few rich people while not helping those who might genuinely need magical healthcare is morally questionable, in my opinion."

"That's what you did with Dumbledore and Grindelwald," Harry told her with raised eyebrows.

"I know," she snapped back. Then she took a deep breath. "Sorry. I know I did it. And I had to - but that doesn't mean it's OK to keep doing it. If we do that, what would stop Dumbledore from doing likewise? There's a lot of money to be made in saving or prolonging the lives of the rich."

"And a lot of influence to be gained. I'm sure Dumbledore and Grindelwald are already considering that," Ron said.

"I know," she spat through clenched teeth. "It's still wrong. It's unfair."

"Life's unfair," Harry said. "If you can use the money to do good and aren't hurting anyone - actively hurting anyone - why shouldn't you do it?"

Ron nodded. "A few rich people live a little longer - so what? The fortune they'd be willing to pay for that could help a lot more poor people. And if you start this with Dumbledore, you've got some control over it." Not much, but it was better than nothing.

"I thought you didn't like depending on Dumbledore so much," she replied.

"I don't. But I'm not about to hurt myself or my friends over it," he told her.

She slowly nodded. She wasn't convinced, but she would work through it, Ron was sure - he knew her, after all.

He grinned and changed the subject. "So, shall we tell Dumbledore that we're ready to shoot Ivanovich?"

"It's not funny," Hermione snapped.

But in a very black humour sort of way, it was.

* * *

"This looks like, as the colonials would say, shooting fish in a barrel," Dumbledore commented, looking down at the still stunned Ivanovich. "Not that I mind, mind you," he added. "In my old business, opportunities to shoot a Russian secret agent without having to fear for your own life were to be cherished. Or they should be."

"You want to do the deed, then?" Harry asked.

"I would never ask something of others I wouldn't be willing to do myself," the old man replied as he opened a box and pulled out a small machine pistol.

Dumbledore did seem very willing - but it could be an act, of course. On the other hand, why would he display himself as eager to hurt a defenceless man? As a warning? To underline his willingness to do whatever was needed to achieve his goals?

"The biceps of the left arm is where he'll remember getting shot. And the left shoulder," Hermione said. "From behind."

Dumbledore inclined his head in response. "Very well."

Hermione waved her wand, and Ivanovich floated upright, then slowly turned until he was facing away from them.

The old man drew a pistol - a Walther PPK, Ron noted - from a holster in his suit and screwed a silencer on. "If you'd do the honours?" he asked, nodding towards the machine pistol.

Harry grabbed the gun and put it in Ivanovich's hand, then fired a few bursts into the walls and ceiling - and the window in the room.

"That should alert the police," Ron commented.

"Indeed, it should," Dumbledore replied as Harry put the machine pistol's sling on Ivanovich.

Then the old spymaster took aim and shot the Russian in the shoulder and arm. "Time for his memorable exit, I believe."

Hermione didn't nod or acknowledge the order - she swished her wand, and the Russian flew through the broken window, landing in a heap on the ground outside. A flick of her wand later, Ivanovich suddenly screamed. He rolled over the lawn, got up and pressed his right hand on his bleeding arm as he stumbled towards the street.

Then he released his shoulder - and grabbed the machine pistol dangling at his side.

Hermione cast a shield moments before the bullets ripped through the jagged remains of the window's glass.

"Time to set fire to the house and vacate the location, I believe," Dumbledore said.

"I concur," Hermione agreed and grabbed his hand.

Ron pulled out a white phosphorous grenade while Harry opened the gas valves in the kitchen and spread some gasoline around.

By the time Hermione returned - looking none the worse for wear - they were back in the kitchen, away from any observers.

"Ready?" Ron asked.

"Yes." Hermione touched both of them.

"Fire in the hole!" Ron said, then lobbed the grenade into the hallway.

Then he felt as if he were being pushed through a narrow pipe as Hermione took him and Harry away from the house.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 5th, 2006**

"_...and German authorities have declined to comment on rumours that the attack on the Russian embassy vehicles was instigated by rogue Russian intelligence assets. However, a spokesman for the British government pointed out that Russia has been plagued by such rogue elements - as proven by the attack in Scotland last November by what the Russian government called 'criminal elements' but who Western investigators have identified as members of a Russian paramilitary unit. The German police have identified the wounded kidnapping victim as Pavel Ivanovich, military attaché in the Russian embassy in London, who had been forced to stop over in Berlin after a medical emergency."_

Ron rolled his eyes at the news report. He already knew that - that was basically what the news had reported last night! At least the reporter wasn't standing in front of the smoking remains of Dumbledore's safe house this time. Oh, wait - there was the footage of the burning house.

"_According to experts, the fire that destroyed the building where Mr Ivanovich was held was started deliberately, and it was only due to the quick response of the Berlin fire brigade that the neighbouring houses weren't set ablaze as well."_

"Really?" Hermione asked as she took a seat next to him and put a plate with finger food down.

"No," he replied. "The neighbours were too far away."

"_Mr Ivanovich is not yet able to testify due to injuries sustained while escaping from the kidnappers. However, according to a statement released by the police, Mr Ivanovich is not in critical condition and is expected to make a full recovery. Due to security concerns, he is being treated at an undisclosed secure location."_

Ron hoped that Putin's forces wouldn't hurt the guards. If they did, then Russia's relationship with Germany would be soured for a few months, but that wasn't much of a deterrent to Putin.

"_Russia blames Chechen terrorists for the attacks, although foreign experts claim that the Chechens lack the ability to conduct such operations on German soil. Nevertheless, the Russian president condemned the attack in harsh words and announced retaliatory attacks in the near future. He also called the ability of the German police to protect Russian diplomats into question and announced that additional guards will be moved to the Russian embassy in Germany until the situation is deemed safe for Russian citizens."_

"I guess that's the cover for his snatch team," Hermione said.

Ron agreed and grabbed a small sandwich for himself. "Yes. It's a good excuse to move more armed assets into Germany without raising suspicion - at least official suspicion."

"_This attack took place suspiciously soon after a rumoured attempted coup in Moscow. President Putin has declined to reply to questions regarding these rumours. However, witnesses have reported that units of the Russian Army supposedly hunting an escaped tiger and bear were conducting searches of properties that had no connection to the escapes. The fact that Mr Ivanovich was recalled to Moscow at short notice also throws doubt on the claim that this was a routine trip."_

So, Dumbeldore and Grindelwald had already started to spread rumours that the entire incident had been the result of an attempted coup in Russia. "Let's hope Putin buys the story," he said.

"He better," Hermione muttered. "I don't want to have to wipe his memories again."

"Brave Aurors discovered a hideout of unidentified dark wizards and drove them away thanks to their swift and decisive action. The Ministry stands tall in defence of Wizarding Britain against all attackers."

* * *

_She sighed and dropped the Prophet on the table in the Gryffindor common room. "I can't believe they're writing this sort of nonsensical drivel!"_

"_I can," Ron replied. "It sounds much better than 'Aurors failed to catch any Death Eaters again and bungled yet another lead'."_

"_But 'unidentified dark wizards'? Everyone knows they are Death Eaters!" Harry exclaimed._

"_They don't actually know that," Ron told him. "They haven't caught anyone yet. The group who's been murdering Ministry officials might be a completely different group of dark wizards! It would be embarrassing if you announce you've caught Death Eaters and then turn up with some French lot."_

"_The Aurors wouldn't catch either," Harry spat. "Well, those not in the Order wouldn't."_

_She nodded. The Aurors certainly hadn't impressed her._

"_And the Order members won't arrest Death Eaters either, since they can't trust the Ministry to hold them," Ron added._

"_So, we've got a newspaper that's actually useless as a newspaper, and an Auror force that's useless for law enforcement." She shook her head. "How did this come to pass?"_

"_Gold." Ron shrugged. "Malfoy's gold, to be exact."_

_And wasn't that a depressing thought. "Perhaps we should do something about that."_

"_No problem. Once I've got a fortune, I'll help," Ron said._

_She snorted. "I had something different in mind than bribing the Ministry ourselves."_

_But they would need a lot of help - or a lot of training - to pull it off. And a lot of nerve._


	59. Chapter 59: The Favour

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 59: The Favour**

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 5th, 2006**

"Thank you for having us over," Dumbledore said as he sat down in the lounge of their quarters.

Grindelwald grunted something that might have been taken for agreement - if you were very generous. And half-deaf.

But then, this being a visit was just a polite fiction that Dumbledore seemed to insist on keeping up. Perhaps he thought it set them more at ease, even though everyone was well aware that they were living on Dumbledore's property. At least it was a small dinner party - the wizarding Weasley twins, as well as Harry and Ron's own counterparts, had returned to their world. Without making contact with Ron's brothers, to his relief.

"Indeed," Rosengarten added as the Healer sat down as well.

"Thank you for coming," Hermione said, smiling politely. "There's a lot to discuss."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "But I think we should leave such matters for after dinner." He beamed. "I've been told the cooks have outdone themselves today."

"If you continue like that, you'll undo all the benefits from magic," Grindelwald commented.

"A little indulging never hurt anyone. Not by itself," the old spymaster retorted - though he kept smiling. "But don't worry - I won't gorge myself."

"Not until dessert, at least."

Both old men laughed at that, and then the staff arrived with the hors d'oeuvres.

The meal itself was great - for a change, it was mainly Mediterranean, with paella as the main course, though the salad with fresh olives was a delight as well - at least according to Hermione and Ginny. Ron would've preferred it a little blander.

The desserts, though, were Italian - tiramisu, panna cotta, cannoli and gelati - ice cream - in numerous different flavours. And enough whipped cream to clog several arteries all by itself. Dumbledore sampled everything at least once before he leaned back, rubbing his stomach.

"Delightful!" he announced.

"And harmful," Grindelwald, who had only taken some panna cotta, retorted.

Rosengarten actually drew his wand and cast a spell before announcing that Dumbledore was perfectly healthy.

"See?" the old man told his partner with a beaming smile that didn't dim in the least when Rosengarten added that repeatedly indulging would cause harm.

"Now that we are settled," Dumbledore went on, growing more serious - though not losing his smile, "I have a bit of news for you, although you might already be aware of it: Mr Ivanovich has disappeared from the hospital in which he was being treated."

"We've heard, yes," Ron confirmed. It was the biggest news item of the day, probably the week - speculation was even worse now than before, after this new twist.

"Indeed. My contacts assure me that he wasn't in any state to do so by himself, so the conclusion is that President Putin's special forces acted faster than expected." Dumbledore shook his head. "Unless they already had assets in place in the clinic, they must have had a lucky break with recon to pull off such an operation in so little time."

"Or they are that good," Grindelwald added, baring his teeth.

"Or the German authorities weren't quite up to the task of guarding Mr Ivanovich," Dumbledore countered with a smile.

Grindelwald scoffed. "No surprise there. Standards have really slipped since the war."

"That's a rather damning verdict, I think," Dumbledore's smile grew a little sly.

"Canaris sabotaged the Abwehr," the German replied. "If he hadn't been a traitor, things would have turned out differently. At least in the espionage part of the war."

"Undoubtedly. Although the Gehlen Organisation was quite competent, I think."

"They'd never have let such an operation happen." The old German scoffed again. "We should have kept more Stasi members as well. They never had as many leaks as the MAD."

Hermione cleared her throat. "This is a fascinating discussion, but I think we have some more current matters to discuss."

"Of course. Please excuse our short detour - at our age, we sometimes get lost in the past."

Ron suppressed a snort. He didn't think for a second that Dumbledore ever got distracted like he'd just claimed.

The old man inclined his head. "As I was saying, I think we can safely assume that President Putin has reacted as predicted and kidnapped Mr Ivanovich. Which means he will soon be fed the information we planted in the latter's head. Which brings us to the question of what we will be doing now that the Russian threat is about to end."

"Provided Putin's fooled by all of this," Sirius pointed out.

"Provided, yes. But I think that's not too optimistic in light of our success. And we will certainly keep that possibility in mind - though we shouldn't let it paralyse us." Dumbledore spread his hands. "So, what future do you envision for yourself and your friends, Dr Granger?"

That was a good question. A very good question. Ron had a few thoughts, but Dumbledore was asking Hermione.

She pressed her lips together, frowning briefly before straightening. "I want my friends and families to be safe from Putin and anyone else who wants to use them to influence me," she said, staring straight at Dumbledore.

His expression didn't change as he inclined his head. "We've been working towards that, and, I believe, we're close to achieving our goal. So, assuming things go according to plan and your friends and families are safe, what are your plans?"

"With the portal secured, abolish Azkaban in Wizarding Britain. It's a stain on the country."

"Are you planning to enter politics, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'd prefer not to, but I doubt it can be avoided," she replied.

"Well, a characteristic of our political system is that we have representatives who, presumably, pursue goals in politics that we share and support while we are free to pursue other interests," Dumbledore said.

"Judging by what we know, your Ministry should be quite receptive to the right incentives," Grindelwald added with a cold smile. "Messrs Weasley were quite frank about the way things worked."

"The Ministry supposedly made great strides in the fight against corruption," Hermione said, with narrowed eyes.

"Well, that is true. Technically," wizarding Luna told her. "The Ministry's honesty has improved a lot under Kingsley."

"But a significant reason for that success is that it started from an abysmal point. Corruption was endemic. The whole system was built on it," Luna added. "Even our parliament and government would have been impressed by the depths to which your Ministry and Wizengamot had sunk."

Dumbledore inclined his head, not challenging her. Neither did Hermione - and it fit what Ron had heard from her about her home dimension.

"And how are things now?" Hermione asked. Ron knew that she had made inquiries of her own.

"Better, but things could still improve," wizarding Luna replied. "The Ministry is doing well - there are still protégés and nepotism, but blatant corruption is now illegal. However, the Wizengamot is not quite as reformed. Gold donations still are the preferred way of influencing members."

Grindelwald snorted. "An honest politician stays bought."

"And the Ministry relies on certain donations as well," Hermione said. "While most donations are tied to certain tasks and events, like the New Year's Ball or St Mungo's, it goes without saying that whoever finances those more or less essential services wields considerable influence just by threatening, whether implied or outright, to stop doing so."

"Things haven't really changed since I left the country, then." Rosengarten shook his head. "They just swapped out the people in charge."

"That's how things usually work out in our country as well," Sirius commented.

"The reforms go beyond that," wizarding Luna retorted. "But they haven't gone far enough, yet."

"Which is a good thing, from a certain point of view," Dumbledore said. "It will make it easier to nudge the Ministry towards adjusting its policies in accordance with our plans."

Ron saw Hermione bristle a little - probably at the way he implied his own participation. Or takeover. She shook her head. "Trying to reform the Ministry by perpetuating its questionable practices isn't a good idea."

"But it would, in my estimation, be the fastest and most efficient way to stop the horrors of Azkaban," the old spymaster replied. "Each day that passes without a change means more people suffering from those monsters."

That was a good point, of course. But the way Dumbledore argued… Ron shrugged. "Without actual reforms, it would just be a temporary solution. Easy to reverse if the Ministry or Wizengamot decides to do so."

"That is a risk with every solution. Short of destroying the prison outright, it will take decades before enough inertia has built up to render the threat of a reversal moot." Dumbledore sighed. "I wish it were different, but while I never entered politics myself, my former profession necessitated enough contact with politicians of all parties to be very familiar with how things are done."

"Destroying the Dementors is actually one of my goals," Hermione said.

"Really?" Wizarding Luna gasped. "You'd destroy an entire magical species?"

Ron couldn't tell if the witch was serious or not.

"I will settle for banishing them from our world," Hermione replied, "even though I'd prefer to destroy them. They are a blight upon our country." She shivered. "And they are evil."

"But that doesn't mean they should be destroyed," wizarding Luna retorted. "Everything has its place in nature."

"They seem rather unnatural, according to the descriptions I've heard," Dumbledore said.

"Indeed," Rosengarten agreed. "There's nothing at all natural about them." He shook his head. "Removing them will be a boon to any world."

Wizarding Luna pouted, but Luna put her hand on her arm, apparently keeping her from continuing the argument.

"In any case, removing the prisoners from Azkaban means the Ministry needs a proper prison to hold them. Building one will take time and considerable resources. Staffing it will cost even more gold. That means hurrying the proposal along with the help of bribes won't actually help very much," Hermione pointed out.

"But those incarcerated for lesser crimes would profit; they don't need to be held in actual prisons," Dumbledore replied.

"Not after Azkaban," Hermione agreed with a frown. "They tend to spend considerable time in St Mungo's. Unless they are outright psychotic."

Ron saw wizarding Luna nod at that with an uncharacteristically tight expression.

He didn't ever want to meet a Dementor.

"It seems that Wizarding Britain hasn't heard that rehabilitating prisoners is far more successful when it comes to fighting crime than revenge. If only they were aware of the Scandinavian model," Dumbledore said.

"Magical Scandinavia isn't quite as progressive," Hermione told him.

"Oh, but they are! They have the most progressive attitude towards werewolves in the entire world!" wizarding Luna protested.

"Which is why the country's never known a day without an ongoing blood feud for two hundred years," Hermione retorted.

"There's a theory that that is the natural behaviour of werewolves," wizarding Luna said. "But it's hard to test the theory without a proper control group, so it can't yet have been verified."

And probably never would be. "That aside, if we're about to reform Azkaban, we might as well go all the way." Ron shrugged when everyone looked at him.

"That's mission creep," Sirius said. "Stick to the clear goal: abolishing Azkaban."

"Rehabilitating prisoners would reduce the chance that a particularly violent crime will be used to reverse the reforms in order to score political points with the easily scared," Hermione said.

"Which make up the majority of the population of our country!" wizarding Luna said, nodding emphatically. Ron wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Not just your country," Luna added. "The world would be a much better place if people were not so cowardly."

"Certain dictatorships would have been toppled far earlier," Dumbledore said. "But we digress. I do agree that focusing on abolishing the worst excesses is the best course of action. Or, at the very least, the most effective plan that can be implemented in a timely manner."

"By bribing the Ministry and Wizengamot," Hermione said.

Dumbledore tilted his head slightly. "Would it be more moral to use less, shall we say, pragmatic methods, at the cost of letting people suffer for longer?"

"We already went over that," Hermione shot back. She sighed. "But even such a pragmatic solution requires quite a lot of money. Gold, in this case, since wizards generally have no use for muggle money - especially muggle money from another world."

"Money's no problem," Dumbledore told her. "Compared to the budget of the Phoenix Gruppe, the money needed to influence Wizarding Britain's legal system is a drop in the bucket."

"A rather substantial drop," Grindelwald interjected.

"It would still be a substantial favour," Hermione said.

Dumbledore's smile widened a little. "And you'd prefer an exchange of favours rather than a gift that you feel would make you owe us, am I correct?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed with a glare that would've been rude if Dumbledore hadn't provoked her response. "I thought about using magic to provide the needed funds, but, even ignoring my world's Statute of Secrecy, there are certain issues with such a course of action which I would rather not have to resolve."

"Not least the threat of word getting back to your world, I presume," Dumbledore said, "where it would hamper the very efforts said actions would finance."

Grindelwald scoffed. "Laundering the money would take care of that."

"That wouldn't address the threat of blackmail," Hermione countered. "Or just rumours being spread."

"That, too, can be handled," Dumbledore told her. "Magical services wouldn't be open to the general public, after all. And with your ability to modify memories, literally no one would know."

Other than Dumbledore and Grindelwald, of course, Ron thought.

"You certainly have experience with information control," Luna said. Her smile was a little too toothy.

"Sometimes, ignorance is bliss, and sometimes, the truth does hurt - often innocents," Dumbledore replied.

"If the truth hurts then perhaps it means it should hurt," Luna retorted.

"And pain teaches us a lesson, life is suffering, etc. etc." Grindelwald rolled his eyes. "Could we please avoid the exchanges of cheap philosophy and focus on the matter at hand? We're not here to mince words but to plan our future."

Both Dumbledore and Luna frowned at that for a moment, but then the old spymaster spoke up again: "I fear we will have to continue this discussion later, my dear. For now, let's discuss finances."

"And politics," Hermione added. "It's quite obvious that there's a very lucrative market for magical healthcare among the billionaires of this world."

"That's indeed obvious," Rosengarten said. "And legal, in this world."

"The Wizengamot, or certain members of it, might not agree," wizarding Luna pointed out.

"And the Ministry would likely want to discourage such dealings - secrecy is certainly paramount when offering magical services to muggles in this world," Hermione said. "Although magical healthcare is not as much a risk as the more exotic services - which are far harder to explain as the product of advanced technology."

"The market for those services isn't as large, though," Dumbledore replied. "And while providing healthcare doesn't pose many, if any, moral dilemmas, things get a little murkier if we diversify."

Like mind control or hunting traitors, Ron thought. "More profitable, though, in a few select cases," he couldn't help pointing out.

"Indeed. And more tempting as well." The old man sighed loudly as if he were serious. "So much could've been accomplished by one or two additional adjustments to President Putin's memories."

"Oh, yes!" wizarding Luna agreed. "We could've saved so many animals from extinction!"

"We went over this already. Several times," Hermione said in a flat tone, her eyes narrowing. "It's not worth it."

Dumbledore nodded, albeit a little slowly, but the Lunas looked a little mutinous, so Ron added: "And should Putin lose his mind, he might order the last nature reserves destroyed - and the Arctic as well. Or oligarchs might attempt to exploit his apparent weakness."

"But sometimes, the risk is worth it," Grindelwald said. "You shouldn't dismiss the possibility of changing the fate of nations with a single spell."

"As we've demonstrated, it's a little more complicated than that," Hermione retorted.

"Putin was ready for you. Most people won't be." The old German scoffed. "Especially not the kind of dictators responsible for terror campaigns or even genocide."

Ron wasn't surprised in the slightest that Luna nodded in emphatic agreement.

"Those are exceptions," Hermione said. "And usually, things happen too fast to react in time."

"Few such crimes happen in a vacuum. Most of the latest tragedies could have been prevented if people had realised what was being planned." Dumbledore shrugged, once. "And we have access to some of the best information services these days."

"For a private business," Sirius spoke up.

"For any organisation," Dumbledore corrected him with a sly smile.

"We certainly have better resources than most countries," Grindelwald added. "And it would only be fitting if we could actually turn a profit from them after all the money Albus has spent on his private secret service."

"A vile exaggeration," Dumbledore retorted. "Most of the budget goes into sources in various secret services. Our own network is hardly that expensive."

"Not like the Shadow Government's secret service," Luna said, nodding again.

"I think we can make an exception for genocide and similar threats," Hermione said.

"And it's not as if anyone would mourn the sort of monsters who commit crimes against humanity," Sirius added, "so might as well kill them after dealing with their messes."

"That should be decided on a case by case basis." Hermione shook her head. "It cannot be a general rule or policy."

"Wise," Dumbledore said. "Although we've been, once again, diverted from our original subject."

Hemione pressed her lips together for a moment. "You want to know about the portal's future."

The old man inclined his head.

She sighed. "The Ministry will want to close it down, should they ever find out about it."

"With some justification," Rosengarten said. "What if a particularly dangerous dimension were to be discovered? Full of unknown diseases, for example?"

"With the appropriate precautions, such risks can be minimised," Hermione replied.

The old Healer shook his head. "You can't prepare for everything."

"So? Leaving your house puts you at risk. A small risk, though, so it's negligible." Hermione didn't quite scoff. "I refuse to abandon my research because of theoretical dangers that can be minimised with proper precautions. People have taken such risks for millennia - that's how we make progress."

"Yes! We wouldn't know anything about Ethiopian Nundus if Magizoologists had stopped searching for them just because they kept getting eaten!" Wizarding Luna's honest comment didn't help as much as she probably thought it would.

"There's a difference between risking yourself and risking others," Rosengarten replied.

"As I said," Hermione said through clenched teeth, "with proper precautions, the risk can be minimised.

"The Unspeakables thought that as well before they almost broke time," the old wizard told her.

"There's never been any evidence confirming that," Hermione said. "Today you'd call it an urban myth."

"Of course there's no evidence - they erased themselves from existence when they made a mistake."

"Do you honestly think that time travel could create a paradox that could 'break time'?" Hermione shook her head. "If it were possible, we wouldn't be around since as early as the nineteenth century, wizards were experimenting with time travel. Which do you think is more likely: that every time travel experiment avoided that danger or that it's just not possible to 'break time'?"

"Absence of evidence isn't evidence of absence," wizarding Luna said, with Luna nodding along.

"But evidence of failed time travel experiments does exist," Hermione retorted. "People aging rapidly, for one."

"Yes, failed time travel experiments." Wizarding Luna nodded.

Ron patted Hermione's thigh as she sighed. "I won't experiment with time. Just with other dimensions."

Wizarding Luna beamed at her. "Good!"

* * *

"I've missed this," Ron said as they walked along the shores of the Black Lake on the path that they had created by taking dozens of strolls over months - and which Dumbledore's people had kept clear of snow, apparently, in their absence.

"The cold or the snow?"

"The walking," he explained. "The lake, at night. The sky." You.

"Ah." She nodded; he couldn't really see her face, but the light was bright enough to see her silhouette. "I didn't really miss the reason for those walks, though," she said.

He knew what she meant. The surveillance. By Dumbledore and MI5. Probably MI6 as well, after Moscow and Berlin. He nodded in agreement. "Quite." Then he saw her flick her wand and heard the faint buzzing noise of a privacy charm. "If the path is bugged, then they'll wonder what you just did."

"I'll blame it on interference from my generators," Hermione replied. "That might help dissuade them from pushing for prototypes."

"That won't work for long."

"It doesn't have to; just long enough for me to prepare and cast a Fidelius Charm." She sighed. "I really need to focus now on researching that charm. It's crucial for the safety of us all. But I also need to improve our protections."

"Magical protections?"

"Yes… oh. Well, not against magic; I don't think that's really a threat in this world."

"Not before Dumbledore and Grindelwald recruit more mercenary wizards," he said. Which they would.

"We'll have to screen them beforehand," she replied. "And we'll have to do some recruiting of our own."

"Mostly friends and family?"

"By preference, yes." She sighed. "It's hard to trust strangers. Who wouldn't be tempted by having a world without magic at their disposal?"

His own counterpart? Ron wasn't sure. "And how many won't realise the risks?"

"True," she replied. "Luna by herself is already a handful."

"More than that." He shook his head. "At least they have given up on the idea of mind-controlling politicians. Can you imagine a world ruled by Luna?"

She shuddered. "Or by Luna. Both of them are lovely women with great talent and bravery, but…"

He nodded. "I wouldn't want to live in a world ruled by either."

"Definitely not."

They reached the usual end of their walks, where a small bench had been cleared of snow as well, and sat down.

"So… what kind of protections are you thinking about?" Ron asked.

"Most of the magical protections I know aren't very useful for muggles. Wards will keep electronics from working inside their area of effect," she said.

He winced a little. No telly? No computers? No phones? "I don't know anyone who could live without modern electronics. Even Aunt Muriel likes her radio and telly."

"Ellen and Gabriel wouldn't stand for that, either. And it would be pointless anyway - I couldn't ward their practice; they couldn't work then, and so they would be targets there." Hermione shook her head. "And Anti-Muggle Charms obviously don't work either; they'd need my help to enter their own home."

"Can't you enchant some amulet or something to allow them to enter?" Ron asked. That was a common idea in a number of books and games.

"In theory, yes - it's not as if there's a lot of demand for that kind of enchantment. But it's tricky, and it wouldn't let them host guests at their home, either." She snorted. "I can't vet all their friends and acquaintances, and even if I could and had enough enchanted amulets, they would need to be compelled somehow to always take the items with them when visiting."

Ah. "So, now that we know what's not possible, what do you plan to do that would be possible?"

"Something to allow them to flee instantly if they are attacked. A Portkey would be ideal, but I never learned how to create those, and that knowledge is generally restricted - there was a wave of muggle abductions in the nineteenth century with Portkeys that were left for muggles to find, and since then, they have been heavily regulated."

Ron nodded. "Well, at least they cared."

She scoffed. "I think it's more that the Obliviators complained about all the additional work and demanded overtime compensation."

"Ah." That would fit what she had told him about the old Ministry. "So, you need to study and research both the Fidelius Charm and the creation of Portkeys?"

"And I need to find a way to get the Ministry to abandon Azkaban."

"And do so without ending up owing Dumbledore too many favours," he pointed out.

"I'm aware of that," she replied, and he could tell without looking that she was talking through clenched teeth.

"Do you have a plan yet?"

"I've got an idea. Or, to be honest, the beginnings of an idea. But I need to talk to Luna, first."

He winced again, glad she couldn't see his expression in the darkness. That was a scary thought.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 10th, 2006**

"_...and rumours of an attempted coup against President Putin persist despite repeated denials by the Kremlin. President Putin himself has been seen in public every day, which has been noted by experts as an obvious attempt to counter rumours that he had been wounded in an assassination attempt."_

"They're still going on about this?" Ginny asked, sitting down next to Ron on the couch in the lounge across from the TV. "It's been a week."

"Russia's still one of the most powerful nations in the world," Ron told her. And they had an arsenal of nukes that rivalled the American one.

"But Putin's clearly still in charge. If it was a coup, it failed." She shook her head. "At least it seems that the plan has worked. I can now start planning for the French Open."

"Ah."

"More than two months; plenty of time to get back into shape, but I won't have the tournament practice," she went on. "I might play some smaller tournaments, to get back in the game. My ranking tanked, too, but I should get a wild card for the French Open."

He made a noise of agreement. "That sounds OK."

"It'll be a struggle to get my ranking back, though. Seles never really made a comeback."

"Seles was stabbed," he replied.

"Yes. At least my popularity hasn't taken too much of a hit," she said. "The terrorist threat has improved it, at least among some demographics, according to my agent."

"So, you'll be financially secure, at least." He didn't smile, but the way she frowned told him that she knew he wanted to.

She huffed again. "And I guess Harry and you will be busy with the portal."

Uh oh. "If it's set up by then," he said. "Hermione's still working on the Fidelius Charm. And afterwards, we'd have to find a new world to travel to, first."

"Ah."

"So Harry will likely be able to travel with you." And probably would, anyway - it wasn't yet certain that the Russians had really stopped their attempts.

"Good." She smiled. Not her proud smile. Not the smile when she had pulled a prank on him. Just a soft smile. The one usually aimed at Harry.

He cleared his throat, then pointed at the TV. "They're finally done with Moscow."

"Good."

"_And now for something completely different," _the announcer said.

Ron shook his head.

"_The series of mysterious animal thefts in Britain continues. Various private habitats have been robbed of their animals. A number of commentators have speculated that this is the work of animal rights activists since all the habitats which have thus far been targeted housed endangered animals in conditions which Home Office inspectors have since described as 'not ideal'. The police have assured the public that they are doing what they can to solve the case - especially since there is widespread concern that the thieves may be unable or unwilling to provide the stolen animals with the necessary specialist care."_

He sighed. "At least the Lunas aren't mind-controlling politicians."

"They're creating habitats to transport the animals," Ginny told him.

"Great. They're not about to release wolves and bears in England, are they?" That would certainly make headlines.

"I don't think so. But they've been talking about 'repurposing' the Malfoy and Parkinson estates." Ginny grinned.

Ron groaned. "I thought Hermione was going to talk to them."

"She did."

Damn.

* * *

He found Hermione near her new lab half an hour later. 'New lab' was a little misleading - it was actually a converted former storage room on the same level as the portal room, but, as Hermione had said, it would serve well enough and wouldn't put expensive computers at risk.

She also claimed that, since she wasn't spell crafting but merely learning a known spell, she wasn't at risk, but Ron still worried whenever she went to 'study'.

"Hey."

She stopped on her way to the portal room. "Hey."

"How's it going?" he asked as he joined her.

Scowling for a moment, she shrugged. "I'm making progress."

Not as much as she'd like, then. But she had higher standards than most people he knew. "I've seen reports about a series of animal thefts." She didn't quite gasp, but he saw her tense. "You knew?"

"I suspected." She pressed her lips together. "And, really, stealing - or liberating, as they call it - animals is pretty much the least troublesome course of action they could've chosen."

"That doesn't mean it isn't worrying, though," he retorted.

"They're not messing around with politicians or covering areas in Muggle-Repelling Charms. Or seeding magical plants to restore forests." She opened the door to the lounge and headed towards the tea kettle.

"Ah. Point taken. But England has only so many animals in need of 'liberation'."

"I'm aware of that." She didn't look at him as she started pouring the tea into two cups. "But let's tackle one problem at a time."

"Well, I can't exactly help you with the spell." He took his cup and sat at the table.

"You can help with the wording, actually," she told him as she joined him. "That's the most important part of the spell. Of an individual spell, at least."

That was true - he had forgotten about that, he realised with a smile. "I can't help with the Dementors or recruiting wizards, though."

"So you want to rein in the Lunas?"

He shrugged. "Someone needs to keep them from going overboard. And I know Luna best."

"I know." She took a sip from her tea, so he didn't see her lips, but she sounded a little tenser than before.

"I don't think they'll be deterred forever, though. Ginny said they're working on portable habitats," he said.

"Yes." Hermione sighed. "They're planning to release the animals in their natural habitats."

"Which have shrunk a lot, though," Ron pointed out. He wasn't a biologist, but the news had covered how much territory a tiger needed. "I'm not sure if there's enough room for all the animals."

"There should be," Hermione replied. "Perhaps if we find a virgin earth…"

"Wouldn't that be populated by other animals, which would have to be displaced to make room for the rescued animals?" It was only logical, after all. At least in his opinion.

"They should have some leeway."

"I'm not sure the Lunas would accept that." He was lying - he was sure that they wouldn't.

"Well, that would only encourage them to create and enlarge habitats in this world." Hermione shook her head. "And they don't have the resources for that."

That was a problem. A problem Ron wasn't sure he could solve.

* * *

**Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, February 11th, 2006**

Ron didn't even stumble upon appearing in a snowy field in the middle of nowhere, nor did he release wizarding Luna's hand. He had really got used to Apparition, then. But… "This looks deserted."

"That's the idea," she replied, nodding with a smile.

He cleared his throat.

She blinked. "Oh. Right. This way!"

She led him across a snowfield to the base of a hill. "We call it 'Underhill'. Because it's under the hill!"

Or because Luna liked her myths. Ron nodded anyway and didn't jerk when wizarding Luna waved her wand, causing a door to appear in the middle of a snow bank. A swish of her wand made it swing open, revealing…

...a huge hall. Far short of a stadium, of course, but bigger than the average warehouse. He whistled, genuinely impressed.

She beamed at him. "It's big enough to house all our rescues - provided we shrink them. I wanted a portable savannah suitcase, they are oh so practical, but the only one in existence is owned by the Scamander family, and they wouldn't sell to us for all the gold in Gringotts - they're jealous of The Quibbler's fame, you know?"

"Ah. Fellow Magizoologists?"

"Yes, but terribly conventional." She closed the door behind them. "Luna! We've got a visitor!"

"I know!" came the reply from what Ron identified as a cardboard cubicle. "Hi, Ron!" Luna stuck her head out of the cubicle, apparently leaning back on a chair.

She sounded a little too cheerful. Guilty conscience, he knew. He pointed at the various boxes and trunks. "Creating a miniature zoo?"

"This is just temporary!" Luna replied with a frown.

"Only until we can find a place for them in the wilderness," her counterpart added. "Which could take a while, of course. Do you want a tour?"

He shook his head. "Maybe later. I wanted to know what you're planning once you've collected all the endangered animals in England. Apart from trying to find them habitats."

Wizarding Luna pouted. "Restoring their natural habitats will take a long time. We might have to keep them shrunken until then. Or we could keep them in a spelled slumber, but the potion needed for that hasn't been sufficiently tested on animals, yet."

"It was only tested on humans?"

"Yes, of course."

That said a lot about the priorities of wizards. "What about Hermione's special project?"

"Oh, that's… well, we might need to ask Hagrid for help," wizarding Luna said.

"We've got some ideas left to try, but…" Luna shrugged. "The fire crabs are proving to be a little too big to be adapted."

"Yes. Although in our defence, I'm an explorer, not a breeder." Wizarding Luna smiled.

"And Hagrid is a breeder?"

"Foremost expert in Wizarding Britain," wizarding Luna said. "He successfully bred fire craps and manticores!"

"Perhaps we should call him."

And the wizard might also know how to deal with Dementors.

* * *

"_The Fidelius Charm is a tricky spell. Unlike with most other spells, in the case of this charm, how well you can use it is much more important than how well you can cast it," Dumbledore said. "It is used to hide a secret - a piece of knowledge. Most often, a location - that was the purpose for which the spell was originally developed. However, it has more potential than that. In theory, you could hide someone's entire existence with this spell. You could evade the most determined, most Orwellian pursuit - or erase someone from society at the most fundamental level."_

_He smiled. "However, it has quite strict limitations. The more people who know a secret, the harder it is to hide it - initially. Once the spell has been successfully cast, however, it is nigh inviolable. Which is what makes it so dangerous." He grew serious. "People tend to trust it too much. Secure in the knowledge that their home is perfectly protected, they grow sloppy. And, of course, the ability to hide a specific piece of knowledge also includes hiding crimes."_

_She gasped. "It would allow someone to appear beyond suspicion if their crimes were hidden by the charm!"_

"_Exactly. There are ways around it, of course. Just because someone's true allegiance is hidden by the charm doesn't mean that they'll be trusted; most people and organisations have more than one enemy. And, fortunately, the Daily Prophet publishing anything without scruple has pushed many secrets above the level that the spell can handle." He grinned. "Mr Malfoy's past is too well-known to be hidden, for example."_

_That was a small consolation. "Can the secret, if it's a fundamental principle, like a spell, be rediscovered?"_

"_Not to my knowledge, Miss Granger."_

_She gasped again, shocked as she understood the ramifications. To think of all the knowledge - all the spells, all the discoveries - that could be hidden, unreachable for anyone, just because of one selfish, greedy wizard or witch! "But… that's… why is this spell not considered an Unforgivable?" It endangered the very fundament of civilisation: the free exchange of knowledge and information!_

"_Two reasons, Miss Granger. First, it won't last forever. A few years, certainly. A few decades, if cast masterfully. And second, who would be able to know that it was cast?"_

"_Ah." She should've thought of that._

"_That you cannot keep more than one secret using the spell also discourages its, shall we say, frivolous use. It would be embarrassing, possibly fatally so, if you need the spell for your own protection, but have already cast it to hide a new spell you'd researched. Then, of course, there's the fact that casting the charm is by no means a small feat. And, obviously, there is the issue that if the original Secret Keeper dies, everyone who knew the secret becomes a new Secret Keeper."_

_She nodded. So, the Wizarding World might not break down as a few drunk wizards started hiding essential knowledge. "You mentioned the wording."_

"_Oh, yes." He smiled again. "As with genie contracts, the wording is key when casting the spell. Magic likes loopholes. Some say magic was the original loophole, so to speak. Magic certainly has a sense of irony, I've found."_


	60. Chapter 60: The New Career

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot, despite the trying times we're currently going through.

* * *

**Chapter 60: The New Career**

**The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, February 12th, 2006**

If not for the, well, colourful robes and, in Mr Weasley's case, mismatched trousers and vest, it would have looked like a Weasley family gathering. And the magic, of course. Can't forget the magic, Ron thought as he saw Mrs Weasley float the dishes off of, and a giant cake on to, the table.

"Here you go! That should be enough cake for everyone."

"Thank you, Molly," Hermione said with a beaming smile.

"Thanks, Mum!"

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley."

"Call me Molly, Ron." She beamed at him. "Fred! Have some patience! Guests are served first!"

"I was about to serve them!" the scolded wizard protested. "And I'm George!"

"No, I'm George!"

"Children…" Arthur sighed. "Behave."

For once, the twins shut up, and shortly afterwards, the chocolate cake split into well-sized slices that floated over to the plates on the table. A bowl of whipped cream was passed around, and Ron took two spoonfuls for his portion before taking a bite.

"Just like Mum's," he whispered, smiling.

"Indeed," Hermione agreed. "The best cake I've ever eaten."

"Thank you, Hermione." Mrs Weasley - Molly, he reminded himself for about the tenth time - smiled at them.

"Thank you, Mother," wizarding Percy said. "Your cooking remains as excellent as ever."

Wizarding Fred - or so Ron thought - started parroting Percy, but another glare from Molly shut him down. "Behave!"

Ron had to hide a smile - that had sounded like Austin Powers.

"But we are behaving! Misbehaving!" wizarding George replied.

"Exactly!"

"Boys…" Once more, Arthur stepped in, and the twins shut up. For the time being. But after everyone had finished their cake, and most of their tea, he spoke up again: "Hermione, you said you had something important to discuss."

"Without Ron?" Wizarding George asked. "Our Ron, I mean. Although two Ron's would be one too many."

"But what about Harry? He's pretty much a Weasley. Married into the family and everything," his brother went on.

"After Mum gave adopting him a good try for years."

"Boys…"

"They already know what this is about," Hermione said as she stood.

"Oi! Unfair!"

"Boys."

"And Charlie and Bill are not in the country," Hermione continued, ignoring the twins' banter. Then she cast a series of spells - privacy charms, Ron guessed. "All of you are aware of where I spent the last seven years."

"Yes! In some dark basement in Scotland!"

"We were there!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't make me silence you. Anyway, we've dealt with the problems - the most urgent ones - in the other world. The portal is reasonably safe now. That means we can now start focusing on other tasks."

"Like abolishing Azkaban!" wizarding Fred exclaimed.

"We're working on that, actually." Hermione's smile grew a little tight. "But sooner or later, we'll attempt to open a portal to completely different worlds."

"Oh! Another set of Weasleys? Can you imagine, three - six - versions of us?"

"We can, and it's a horrible prospect," Ron told them.

They laughed at that, of course. And Molly looked like she didn't know if she should laugh as well, or be annoyed at not being able to scold Ron since he was a guest in their home.

Hermione, of course, had no qualms about glaring at him. Ron beamed at her. Trying to be overly serious only made the twins try harder. Which she should know from her own experience. She cleared her throat. "Yes, that is a possibility, but we'll be aiming for more diverse worlds."

Once she found out how, of course. And whether or not such worlds existed.

"As you can imagine, this will be a rather large project. The other world's Mr Dumbledore is financing part of it, at least." How large that part would end up being would depend on how much money they could make. "But we'll need the help of trusted wizards and witches who can keep a secret and don't shy away from potential danger."

"We're in!" wizarding Fred announced at once.

"We're already familiar with the set-up, and exploring new worlds sounds far more exciting than selling pranks to children," his brother added.

"Or their stupid parents," wizarding Fred went on. "So, when do we start?"

"What about your shop?" Molly blurted. "Are you going to abandon it?"

"Good question, Mum," wizarding Fred said. "I didn't know you cared!"

Molly gasped, but wizarding George quickly placated her. "He's joking. But we do have staff, and making the items isn't as time-consuming or difficult as inventing them. We shouldn't lose much business if we slow down a little."

"Exactly!" his brother agreed.

"It's not about the money! It's dangerous!" Molly retorted.

"So's experimenting with potions, and we've done that since third year." Wizarding Fred shrugged.

Ron winced - that wasn't a good argument. He could see Molly winding herself up for a truly impressive outburst - she had the same expression Mum had when they had told her about Pettigrew.

But Arthur spoke up: "Sons, Molly's right - this isn't the same as experimenting with spells or potions."

"We've also fought in the war," wizarding Fred blurted out in return, but then drew a sharp breath, his eyes glancing at Molly as if he was surprised at his own words.

With cause, Ron realised - everyone had fallen silent.

"It's not the same!" Molly protested. "This isn't… this is going out and looking for danger!"

"Molly, we're not looking for danger - we're looking for new worlds. New discoveries," Hermione said. "And we'll be careful. Cautious. We won't just enter a new world at random."

"We won't?" Wizarding Fred gasped theatrically. "That was half the draw!"

But his twin brother elbowed him. "We're not stupid. We won't just jump through a portal. But this is big. Probably the biggest thing in centuries. And we want in."

Wizarding Fred nodded. "Yes. Making prank items is entertaining, but…" He shrugged. "It's not…"

Wizarding George took over. "People's lives aren't going to change because of a clever prank. This, though…" He grinned. "This could change everything."

"And we really want to meet our counterparts!" wizarding Fred added with a wide grin. "Not to mention the pay will be great."

Ron suppressed a sigh. Of course, Dumbledore and Grindelwald would have tried to recruit them while they guarded the portal.

Hermione must have realised the same thing. "About that. We're working on acquiring funds and finances. While I wouldn't say that I distrust Mr Dumbledore, I wouldn't feel very safe if he had complete control over this project."

"Trust, but verify," Ron said.

"Ah!" Wizarding George nodded. "You want us on your side, in case there's a conflict between you and Dumbledore."

"Honestly? Yes." Hermione sighed. "It's as Ron said: I'd like to have some assurances."

"Something to keep the old man honest," Ron added. "He's been honest with us so far, but so far we haven't had a difference of opinion, either."

"And he's working with their world's Grindelwald," Arthur added. "Granted, a muggle Grindelwald who wasn't the leader our Grindelwald was, but…"

Everyone nodded. Ron was relieved to see that the wizarding Weasleys weren't as trusting towards Dumbledore as his own family. Of course, his parents owed a lot to Dumbledore.

"Oh, so we're going to be spies as well?" Wizarding Fred sounded far too eager for Ron's taste.

"No. No spying - you wouldn't be able to fool him." Hermione frowned at the twins. "He's been a spymaster for decades; he'd see straight through you. Just be honest and upfront with him."

"You'd be a deterrent," Ron added.

"And our family as well, I take it," Arthur commented, almost casually, but the glint in his eyes - the wizard wasn't amused, to say the least. "Since we would certainly react, should something happen to our children."

Hermione winced but nodded. "I hate to ask this of you, but I - we - need people we can trust on our side. Honest people who will do what's right, not what's easy, if things go wrong. Dumbledore isn't evil, but he's been a spy for all his life, and he's used to working with spies. He won't baulk at recruiting people with, well, flexible morals, because that's what he has been doing for decades." She took a deep breath. "And I don't trust such people. The temptation a world without wizards and witches offers is just too great to trust them. We need people who won't be corrupted."

Ron nodded. The Lunas showed that. They meant well, but… what if they had more sinister goals?

"Hey! We're already corrupted!" wizarding Fred protested. "We're proud to have been corrupted as early as our first year!"

Wizarding Percy spoke up for the first time since the discussion had started. "Be serious," he told the twins before turning to Hermione and Ron. "It would also be a matter of national security. If Dumbledore hires an untrustworthy wizard, and they should gain control over the portal, that would endanger Wizarding Britain."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "I'm sure Dumbledore will attempt to play all his wizards and witches against each other, to keep any one of them from controlling him and his partner, but that's not a perfect solution. All it takes is one mistake."

"Or the mercenary wizards deciding that they can get more money working together without the muggles." Wizarding Percy nodded. "I still think that we should inform Kingsley. The support of the Minister would be invaluable."

"I disagree," Arthur said. "Kingsley is a good man, but his successor? Or the Wizengamot?" He shook his head. "It's too dangerous."

"Which means we'll have to step in!" wizarding Fred announced with a wide grin. "We should call it the 'Weasleys' Wizarding Worldgate'!"

"No, we won't," Hermione said firmly, but she was smiling.

* * *

**Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 12th, 2006**

"...and Fred and George will move to the portal base as soon as they finish reorganising their business," Hermione said.

Her mother nodded. "Does that mean you'll live there as well?"

Mrs Granger didn't frown or sound angry, but Hermione flinched a little anyway, or so it seemed to Ron. "For the foreseeable future. Once we find a deserted world, we're planning to move the main base there, for safety reasons."

"So that if you dig too deep, you won't release a Balrog on our world?" Mr Granger, too, seemed to approve.

"Dad! I'm not a dwarf," Hermione protested. "But, yes, that's the idea."

"Just don't build a self-destruct device," her father told her. "That never ends well."

"That's a risk we need to take," she retorted. "The safety provided by an off-world - or extra-dimensional - base would be significantly reduced if a potential invader could easily seize the entire base."

"And what if an invader uses it against you?"

"If they can use the self-destruct device, then they'd have already critically penetrated base security anyway," Ron cut in, which earned him a glance from Hermione, who seemed to be torn between annoyance at him butting in and gratitude for supporting her.

Gratitude won out. "Exactly. In any case, it's better to lose a base than a planet - or your families." Hermione blinked, then winced. "Sorry."

An awkward silence followed that lasted for about fifteen seconds before Ron cleared his throat and changed the subject somewhat. "We'll be recruiting a few more trusted wizards and witches. Mainly the eldest and second-eldest Weasley son and their families. Or family, in this case."

"Bill and Charlie," Hermione explained. "Which will bring Bill's wife, Fleur."

"They haven't accepted yet," he cautioned her. As far as he knew, they hadn't even been told yet.

But she shrugged. "I'm sure at least Bill will join up quickly. He's the type to explore and likes adventure. Charlie… he loves dragons above everything else, so unless we find a world full of dragons, we might not see him."

"Except for family gatherings," Ron said. "Mum and Dad want to meet their counterparts." Everyone wanted to.

"As do the twins, I suppose," Hermione added. "That should be interesting."

Both her parents smiled - they knew the twins, then. Ron grinned, though he felt more cynical than amused. "They can't be worse than the Lunas, I think."

"Don't jinx it!"

"The Lunas? Luna Lovegood?" Mrs Granger asked.

"Yes. Her and her counterpart," Hermione replied.

"What have they done?"

Hermione sighed and started to detail the Lunas' plans. The Grangers were amused but also concerned. "Are they planning to release magical species as well?" Mrs Granger asked. "Or to restore the ancient woodlands, for example?"

"They should know better than that," Ron replied. "Knowing what invasive species do to the native species should keep them from doing something foolish." At least he hoped so - he knew his Luna much better than he knew her counterpart, despite the time they had spent together on missions.

"Well, at least that's not a concern here," Mr Granger said.

"Not before we discover a world with unknown flora and fauna," Ron agreed.

Every Granger present frowned at him in response.

* * *

Later, while Ron was taking a walk with Hermione, they passed her old address from her time in his world. He stopped and looked up at what would have been her flat. "Do you know who's living here?"

She shook her head. "No. And I don't think I want to know. I never lived here - my flat's in the other world."

His world. "You're not even a little curious?"

"No. Maybe a little. But it would feel weird."

"Weirder than working with your dimensional counterpart?"

"Touché." She snorted. "Who knows - I might meet one of my own counterparts myself."

"Sooner or later, you're bound to find another parallel world."

"That's not certain. The possibilities are endless, after all," she said.

"Unless the universes that are the easiest to reach are the ones that are the most similar. Or something." That was possible, wasn't it?

"We don't have enough data to draw such a conclusion. I wasn't picking a universe at random, after all, but using my connection to find my home universe. Now, when looking for a universe at random, anything could happen."

He nodded. "That might be a little dangerous until you find an empty world."

"A little. I've got two universes to compare, so it shouldn't be too hard to find a similar universe, which should keep the risk at an acceptable level. And the more data we get, the easier it is to make predictions."

"But the risk remains."

"Some risk, yes. But it's worth it. Could you just ignore the possibility of travelling to other dimensions simply because it might be dangerous?" She cocked her head a little as she looked at him.

He chuckled, a little ruefully, and shook his head. "No, I couldn't."

Smiling, she hooked her arm into his, and they continued their walk.

"Are you going to ask your parents to move to the portal base?" he asked a few minutes later.

She sighed but didn't reply right away. After a moment, she said: "What would they do there? They can't work there, and, for the foreseeable future, we'll be based in the other world, where Gabriel and Ellen live." She sighed again. "No friends, no family other than me, no work…"

Well, they would have her. "They'd be safe there, though."

"That's true. But they've been safe for years here," she replied.

He nodded. "But that was when the wizards thought you had died. They were useless as leverage," he told her. She frowned at him, and he shrugged. "I'm just pointing out the obvious."

"I know. But I might as well ask them to hide, isolated, under the Fidelius Charm!" She shook her head. "Depending on me whenever they want to go outside? Travel? Meet friends and family? That wouldn't be much of a life."

Nor would it be much of a life for her. He nodded. "And it would give Dumbledore and Grindelwald more potential leverage."

She narrowed her eyes at him, then shook her head. "That's Moody talking. Dumbledore would never be as crude as to try to kidnap my parents to exert influence on me."

"Grindelwald might, though," Ron countered.

"I think he'd follow Dumbledore's lead in this."

Ron didn't agree, but it was all theoretical. "Dumbledore is no saint."

"I'm aware of that. And also that he'd probably use my parents in his plans anyway. Just with more finesse."

"And a possibly overly complicated plan." Ron snorted. "He is the type to be too clever for his own good."

"So far, his plans have worked out," Hermione retorted.

"Those we know of, at least."

She narrowed her eyes at him again. "I am aware that he's a spymaster and pursuing his own agenda - undoubtedly focused on amassing more money and power for himself, and finding a way to further extend his life."

"That's quite the motivation. And what will he do if he finds a method you won't tolerate?"

She raised her chin. "Then we'll have to stop him."

"He'll expect that."

"I know."

He snorted. "I'm looking forward to working on a project marked by such exceptional trust between its primary participant and backer."

"It's not as if we have a choice," she replied. "I have no doubt that Dumbledore has taken precautions in case we decide to move against him."

"Yes." Even if Rosengarten was a wild card, Dumbledore had had ample opportunities to construct a situation where mutual destruction was assured. Ron's parents still trusted him, for one thing. "But it's worth it."

She chuckled. "To visit other worlds?"

"And explore them." And the situation made Ron feel more useful, too. He was trained to deal with similar problems, after all. Moody had seen to that.

Hermione nodded with a smile. "Exactly. Imagine the possibilities."

Well, Ron had been doing that since he had been able to read.

* * *

"So, do you have an idea for dealing with the Dementors?" he asked on the way back to her parents' home - dinner would be ready soon.

"Nothing concrete, yet." She frowned, though not at him. "There's no known method of killing them - although I doubt that many methods were actually tested thoroughly, if at all. It's very difficult to concentrate next to a Dementor, which impedes spell-casting."

"What about explosives?"

"That has been tested. The Blasting Curse is one of the few spells that can be cast effectively from far away, and using it didn't kill the Dementors."

It was his turn to frown. "Perhaps the explosion wasn't powerful enough."

"That is a possibility. Few blasting curses can equal a large bomb, after all. But I don't think it's that easy. Someone's bound to have tried something similar," she replied.

"Lasers?"

"They're not especially vulnerable to light or heat. Sunlight doesn't hurt them. That's been tested extensively."

Ron felt a little stupid, trying to think of magical ways to hurt such monsters when he was a muggle, but it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. And he'd always liked brainstorming problems in roleplaying games. "What weaknesses do they have?"

"Well, they cannot stand being in the presence of a Patronus. And they also supposedly cannot stand warmer climates, either - which would explain their cold aura. They cannot pass through walls, nor can they fly, even though they move by gliding over the ground. Most spells are said to be unable to affect them, especially those charms and curses that affect the mind. And using Legilimency on a Dementor resulted in insanity in the wizard who attempted it."

Hmmm. That was a pretty long list already. Far from comprehensive, though. "Can they walk or glide over water?" They lived on an island, didn't they?

Hermione shook her head. "No, they can't. That's why they are confined to Azkaban. When they attacked us at the Black Lake, they went around the lake."

"What happens if they are pushed into water?"

She wrinkled her nose. "That's a good question. It should be tested - I don't think anyone's ever tried it. Or if they did, we don't know if they were successful." She started to grin. "I think my idea for dealing with Azkaban needs a little refining."

* * *

**CI5 Headquarters, Westminster, London, February 15th, 2006**

"Feels sort of nostalgic, doesn't it?" Ron asked as he stepped out of the car in front of CI5's headquarters.

Harry made a non-commital noise as he closed the car door, then locked the Bentley with a click of the remote. "It's been a while."

Ron was about to comment some more when he saw the door open ahead of them. He tensed, and his hand went under his jacket. Then he relaxed. It was just Dawlish.

The other police officer's eyes widened upon seeing them, but his surprise quickly gave way to a deep frown. "Potter. Weasley."

"Dawlish." Ron barely nodded at the man. Harry didn't even bother.

Dawlish pressed his lips together in return, then sneered. "A Bentley? Your girlfriend or your godfather loaning you the car, Potter?"

Ron almost sighed as he saw Harry tense in response. His friend really should have gotten used to this.

"Jealous, Dawlish?" Harry scoffed. "Because you don't have a girlfriend or a decent car?"

The other man clenched his teeth together. "Some of us work for a living, Potter."

"Like me," Ron added with a smile."And we're here for work." Only technically, of course.

"You're still suspended."

"We were on leave. Now we're back," Harry told him. "And you're in our way."

Ah, Ron's friend hadn't lost his touch - Ron expected to hear the sound of Dawlish cracking a tooth or three, the way the man's jaws were working.

But Dawlish stepped to the side. "Things changed while you were hiding. Don't expect a red carpet - or special treatment." With another sneer, he watched them enter.

"Dawlish kept his position," Ron commented as they made their way through the lobby towards the unfamiliar officer manning the desk there.

"Might've been demoted."

Ron nodded. He hadn't bothered keeping track of what was happening at their old - technically still current - office.

"Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," Harry announced. "We've got an appointment with the boss."

The woman blinked. "You mean the Chief Superintendent?" Before either of them could reply, she went on: "I'll need to see both of your IDs, sir."

Things had changed, Ron realised as he pulled out his ID. Granted, that was to be expected after the murders of Scrimgeour and Bones.

The woman looked at their IDs, then at them, and nodded. She didn't comment, though - she just checked the schedule. "Yes, you're expected. It's on the fifth floor, office number…"

"We know the way," Harry interrupted her with a nod.

"Got yelled at by Bones often enough," Ron added, flashing a smile at the woman before he followed Harry to the lift. "She's new," he said in a low voice as they waited for the cabin to arrive.

"I know," Harry replied. "Still, she should've known who we are."

"Oh? You like being famous now?" Ron snorted.

"We're here for an appointment with the boss. And we're fairly well known in CI5. She should've been aware of who we are, even if only after checking up on us."

"Maybe she did, and didn't want to appear to be friendly with the local pariahs?" Ron wasn't entirely serious, but it was possible.

The lift arrived before Harry could reply, and the doors opened to reveal Moody, leaning against the cabin's wall. "Potter. Weasley."

"Moody," Ron replied in the same flat tone.

"Here to pat us down?" Harry asked.

"The scanners in the doors have been enhanced," the man told them.

"And you trust them?" Ron raised his eyebrows as he stepped inside.

"I tested them. Extensively."

"Ah."

The door closed behind them, and Moody reached over to press the button for the fifth floor. "So, here to quit?"

"We quit months ago," Harry replied. "We're just here to update the paperwork."

Moody scoffed. "About time." Then he cocked his head and glared at them. "How did you hide your weapons?"

"What makes you think we're armed?" Harry shot back with the sort of innocent smile that had never worked on any authority figure Ron could remember.

It didn't work on Moody, either. He snorted. "I trained you. You're not stupid enough to think you're safe here - or in London - just because Putin's busy with a traitor now. And you're too damn smug, Potter."

Ron snorted in return. "Trade secret, Moody," he said.

Moody shook his head. "New gear from Phoenix Gruppe?"

Ron inclined his head. Technically true - if Hermione shrinking their weapons counted.

Moody snorted again. "So you're going mercenary."

"Bodyguard," Harry corrected him as they reached the fifth floor.

"Tell that to someone who doesn't know Dumbledore," Moody grunted, but nodded as they left, while remaining in the lift himself. "Good luck," he muttered, just before the doors closed again.

A new, middle-aged secretary greeted them. Her smile was polite. Very polite. She must have heard of them, then, and nothing good, probably. Ron almost chuckled, but they weren't here to make more enemies. Not deliberately, at least. "Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. We've got an appointment with Chief Superintendent Spikings," he said instead, flashing a smile at her.

"Ah, yes. Please have a seat; he'll be ready for you in a moment." She nodded towards the cheap plastic chairs lined up by the wall across from her desk and went back to typing before they could reply.

She had definitely heard of them. "I guess Dawlish talked about us," Ron muttered as he took a seat.

Harry snorted. "Or Moody."

Ron chuckled. "Oh, yes." What Moody considered praise would likely not be well-received by many others, and he didn't know how Spikings saw things. Ron knew that the man had led a special investigations unit for the Met and that he had been called out of retirement to 'sort out' CI5, but not much else.

Well, it didn't matter. They were here to quit, not to get their jobs back. He chuckled again - not having to worry about the new boss felt quite liberating, actually.

The secretary frowned at him, but the intercom on her desk buzzed before she could scold him. "The Chief Superintendent will see you now," she said.

"Thank you," Ron nodded at her with a bright smile as he got up.

Chief Superintendent Gordon Spikings was wearing a pinstripe suit, sported a thick moustache and was already glaring at them as they entered. That wasn't a good sign.

"Sir," Ron greeted him, followed by Harry a moment later.

"Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley." The old man stared at them for a moment. "Take a seat," he snapped, more an order than an invitation.

They sat down anyway. The office hadn't changed, Ron noticed. It was almost like it had been when Bones occupied it - just without her personal touches. Spikings hadn't brought any of his own, other than a picture on his desk, but Ron could only see the back of it. Probably a family picture.

"You've been at the centre of this whole mess since it started," the man began. "Some say you're responsible for it in the first place."

Probably Dawlish, Ron thought.

"Whoever said that is lying," Harry retorted. "We did our jobs, nothing else."

Spikings snorted in return, then patted a familiar-looking stack of files. "I've read your files. You're troublemakers. _Cowboys_." He stressed the last word as if it had a special meaning.

Ron cocked his head. "We were cleared after every investigation following a shooting."

The man's glare intensified. "I know how such things are handled."

Ron was sure the man had handled some of those things himself.

Harry shrugged.

"You're remarkably unconcerned about your future employment," Spikings went on. "Then again, you've been working for Mr Dumbledore for the last few months, haven't you?"

"Actually, we've been protecting Dr Granger, who, in turn, was working for Mr Dumbledore at a special research site," Ron pointed out. He managed not to smile as he did so.

Spikings scoffed at that. "You were suspended. Still are, _actually_." The man could do sarcasm better than Bones.

"That's why we're here," Harry said. "We've come to quit."

Ron nodded. There was no need to drag this out.

Spikings wasn't at all surprised. "Joining Dumbledore's private Secret Service, are you?"

"We're going to be private detectives," Ron told him. "And private security."

"Mercenaries, then," Spikings replied. "You wouldn't have travelled to Berlin recently, would you?"

That must be a wild guess. Ron did his best to look puzzled.

Harry shook his head. "No, why? We've been stuck in Scotland."

Spikings's eyes narrowed even more. He didn't push further, though. "And I expect you will be granted the right to carry firearms in your new business."

Ron shrugged. "Well, they're sort of necessary in our business. As our files demonstrate." He nodded at the stack of paper.

The old man shook his head. "As expected. But I'm warning you: If you cross the line in my jurisdiction, Dumbledore won't be able to protect you. I'll bring you in. It isn't the Cold War any more. Dumbledore isn't running things in MI6 any more, either. And there's only so much that bribes can do."

"I don't think there'll be any trouble," Harry said. But he was smiling a little too much.

Once more, the old man scoffed. "It's too bad you're quitting, actually. I think you would be perfect for investigating the sudden rash of stolen animals. Setting cowboys to track down animals seems oddly fitting."

Harry's smile widened, and Ron wanted to sigh. "Might I suggest Dawlish instead?" his friend asked. "He's perfect for talking to all those rich people missing their exotic pets."

"I would think you would be better suited, Mr Potter, as you might know many of them through your godfather."

"We don't exactly move in those circles, sir," Harry shot back.

For the first time, the man's lips twisted into the hint of a smile. "See Mrs Edgecombe about the necessary forms for your departure."

"Thank you," Ron said.

Harry grunted something as they got up.

* * *

"Dawlish must have spent a week bad-mouthing us non-stop," Ron said as they entered the lift again.

"I don't know," his friend disagreed. "I think the Chief Superintendent would have seen through such a transparent move. But our files are sort of… suggestive."

"That's CI5 for you," Ron replied. Moody had told them that the unit had been formed to use unorthodox tactics. Granted, the old man had usually said that after a run-in with Bones, who had been a very by-the-book officer.

"Yeah." Harry shrugged. "I also thought Spikings wasn't really talking about us. Or not just about us. 'Cowboys' - why would he call us that?"

"Because we used our guns more than all the officers in other units combined?" Ron asked.

Harry snorted in return. "Good point. Not that it matters."

"No, I guess it doesn't."

They reached the ground floor. Time to leave CI5.

"Ron! Harry! Tell me it's not true! Tell me there's been a mistake!"

Or not. "Hi, Colin," Ron said as Harry grunted something Colin might mistake for a greeting. "What's a mistake?"

"You've been listed in the system as quitting the service!" the younger man blurted out.

"Why do you know this?" Harry asked, eyes narrowing. "We only just filled out the forms."

"And how did you know we're here?"

"I've got a program that flags every mention of you in our system," Colin replied. "But that's not important. You're quitting? Why? You're our best officer. Best officers."

"Thank you," Ron drawled as sarcastically as he could. Not that Colin would notice.

Harry sighed. "Well…"

"Wait! Did Spikings tell you to quit or you'd be fired?" Colin gasped. "That's not fair! He just wants to kick everyone out and replace them with his own people! They've already replaced most of the brass!"

"Actually…"

"You can't let them do this, Harry! You need to fight them! I'm sure there's some dirt on Spikings that you can dig up and use to force him to reinstate you! We need you!" Colin took a step towards Harry, who took a step back.

"We're not going to blackmail a Chief Superintendent," Harry told Colin.

"But…"

"Spikings isn't the type to bow to pressure," Ron added. At least he thought so. "And he's retired, so he doesn't have anything to lose."

"But…"

"Look, Colin." Harry sighed. "We've been planning to quit for some time."

"But why?" Colin whined.

"We don't fit in any more," Ron said.

"That's not true! You're veterans! We need you!"

"Colin!" It was Ron's turn to sigh. "We've, ah, moved past CI5. We're about to go private."

"Oh! So the rumours are true! You're going to work for the Secret Service!"

"No, we aren't," Harry snapped. "We're gonna be private investigators. Detectives and bodyguards."

"But… you were hired by Albus Dumbledore, weren't you? 'C', the boss of MI6! He led the Secret Service during the Cold War! He's a legend!"

Ron glanced at Harry. It looked like they had finally found someone Colin liked almost as much as Harry.

"We might do some work for him," Harry admitted. "But we're not going to become secret agents or anything. We're going to be bodyguards."

"Harry'll be busy guarding Ginny," Ron said.

"Oh… right." As usual, Colin deflated when Ginny was mentioned. Or rather, her relationship with Harry.

"And Ron'll be guarding Hermione," Harry added.

"Dr Granger?" Colin perked up again. "Did you solve her case?"

"That's classified," Ron told him.

"Oh. The attack in Scotland! Of course - that was the last attempt by Russian oligarchs to silence her before she remembered who had kidnapped her! And the purge in Russia is Putin getting rid of them before they can implicate him!"

"Have you been visiting conspiracy sites again?" Ron asked.

"Only those that Luna recommends."

Ron ignored Harry's amused glance. "It's classified."

"That means yes!"

"No, it means that it's classified," Ron repeated himself.

Colin gasped again. "Oh! Say… do you need a lab technician in your new office?" He was looking at them - at Harry - with bright eyes and an expression so full of hope, Ron almost felt bad for shooting him down. Almost. Ginny would kill Colin after a week, tops. Or she'd kill Ron. So he told Colin: "Sorry, but we're focusing on bodyguarding to start with - and cheating spouses. We won't need a forensics lab."

"Oh… but I can do surveillance as well!"

Yes, Ginny would definitely kill him. Or Harry would do it.

"Sorry, Colin, but we're starting small. Just the two of us. And we'll be, well… guarding our girlfriends to begin with," Harry said with a fake smile.

"Oh. I guess you don't need a lab technician, then."

"Sorry." Ron nodded, patted the bloke on the shoulder, and left the building.

Harry all but ran after him.

"I'm not going to miss CI5, actually," his friend told him when they reached the Bentley. "It wouldn't be the same, anyway."

"With Spikings? Probably not." Ron replied. "He's used to running things his way, I think." And with CI5 disgraced by the murders of Scrimgeour and Bones as well as Yaxleys's betrayal, Spikings would get his way. That was how things worked.

"Yes. And I don't want to work our way up for a year or two until we can do things our way again," Harry agreed. "Let's go."

* * *

**Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 15th, 2006**

"...and then we left. He looked like a kicked puppy," Ron finished his account as he sat at the Granger's dinner table.

"Like a kicked stalker, you mean," Harry said. "He had written a program that hacked the CI5 systems so he would be notified as soon as I appeared in the system."

"That sounds like the Colin I knew," Hermione said with a faint smile. "In his first year, he followed Harry around with a camera and tried to take pictures of him whenever he could."

"That's our Colin!" Ron grinned as Harry groaned.

"At least he's still alive," Hermione said, her smile vanishing.

This time, Ron did feel bad about brushing off Colin. Somewhat.

* * *

"'_Gas Explosion'," Harry said, spitting the words out. _

"'_Whole family died in fire'," Ron added, dropping the newspaper on the table in their tent._

"_We told them to move," she said through clenched teeth. "Why didn't they leave their home and go into hiding?" The Creeveys should have known better than that. Two students - one of whom didn't even have his O.W.L.s yet - stood no chance against the Death Eaters. Even if they had trained with the Boy-Who-Lived._

_She bit her lip. She couldn't say that - Harry would blame himself. And they couldn't have that. Their lack of success at finding the last Horcrux was already bad enough. They didn't need Harry growing even moodier. She sighed. "Their parents probably didn't want to move, and they didn't manage to convince them in time."_

"_And they stayed as well, until it was too late," Ron added. "I hope they at least got a few of the bastards. We trained them well enough, didn't we?"_

_She closed her eyes. She didn't need to see Harry to know that he was flinching._


	61. Chapter 61: The School

As usual, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 61: The School**

**Greenwich, London, Britain, Wizarding World, February 16th, 2006**

"Bad dream?" Ron asked when he noticed that Hermione was awake. It was a bit after eight - late for the two of them. In Scotland, they'd have already eaten breakfast and would be returning from their morning run around the Black Lake.

She shook her head, her wild mane obscuring her face for a moment as it whipped round her face. "No. Just… old memories."

War memories, then - as he had suspected. He knew the expression she usually wore when thinking of the war.

"Why do you ask?" She turned her head to look at him.

"You were tossing and turning in your sleep," he told her.

She blushed. "Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault." And it wasn't as if she'd hurt him. He reached over and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Hey," he added after a moment, to break the sombre mood, "do you think someone's going to call us immoral?"

"Immoral?" She blinked.

"Well, technically, you're my employer. Or you'll be my employer. And we're sleeping together, despite the power imbalance."

She chuckled. "Technically, I'm employing your firm. And I don't think it matters if you started your relationship before the business relationship."

"Ah, right. But that reminds me: We'll have to found a firm for this." More paperwork. Ron had hoped he would have fewer, not more, forms to fill out when he left the police.

"Good idea," Hermione agreed. "That will make it neater for the government. And make it harder for anyone to put pressure on you thanks to the limited liability."

"Well, no one should attempt that, once you've cast your charm," he replied.

She sighed. "I really should get back to work as soon as possible. The longer I take, the greater the risk of someone making a move. Putin... or our own government. Maybe even the US, if someone in the government told them about my supposed new technology."

"Well, if they did leak the intel, they'll be in hot water once that's revealed as a cover." At the very least, the Americans would consider them compromised. They might even take revenge of some sort for, supposedly, having been played for fools.

"We can only hope that it works."

She had sounded far more confident in the discussions with the others, Ron noted. And while her doubts were cause for some concern, it was also nice to see her voice her doubts and open up to him.

"Worst case, we pack up and move to your world before looking for a world without Weasleys or Grangers. Or settle in your world. It wouldn't be ideal, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. Except, perhaps, for Percy."

She snorted, then shook her head. "Really, Ron! The consequences of my potential failure for your family are hardly amusing!"

He laughed, even though she was obviously concerned. "You're right. But it wouldn't be the end of the world."

"Unless Rosengarten is validated by my opening a portal to hell or a similarly dangerous place," she said, sounding gloomy again.

"Hell? Do you mean a world full of lava, or the other place?"

"Both could be possible - well, reasonable facsimiles, at least."

"Hell's real?"

"No. I mean, no one - no wizard or witch - has found such a place. Or, if they have, returned to tell the tale. But magic certainly has the potential to create a place that would be indistinguishable from Hell as most people think of it," she explained. "And the existence of souls, at least, has been proven."

"I know." Tales of souls being split or devoured pretty much implied that. "But Hell?"

"No one knows what the afterlife looks like - or if there's one at all. Ghosts are the imprints left behind in death, not the souls of dead people returned. There was supposedly a magical stone that could summon the souls of the dead, but no one, ever, saw it being used - or if they did and it worked, they didn't bother to ask that question. And, well - that's pretty much the most obvious question anyone would ask a soul visiting from the afterlife, so I am inclined to assume that the Resurrection Stone, as it was called, doesn't actually exist. Or doesn't do what the myth claims."

"Ah." That was, in a way, quite reassuring. Wizards and witches didn't have an advantage there, at least. They would be facing death with the same ignorance and uncertainty as muggles such as Ron himself.

Not that he planned on dying anytime soon, of course.

* * *

**Hogwarts, Wizarding World, February 17th, 2006**

Hagrid was the tallest man Ron had ever seen. He made André the Giant look small. And scrawny. The wooden hut had seemed tall and imposing, its door as tall as a gate, but with the man standing in front of it, it looked almost tiny in comparison.

"Hermione!" And his voice matched his stature. Not quite as loud as a gunshot, but it came close. "So glad ter finally see yeh. Again, I mean!"

"Hello, Hagrid," Hermione replied with a smile - and a slightly guilty expression, Ron noted. "This is Ronald, my boyfriend. He's related to the Weasleys."

"Right! The muggle Weasley!" The man stuck his hand out towards Ron.

"Yes. Pleased to meet you." Seeing no way to refuse without appearing rude, Ron took the man's hand. And winced when Hagrid squeezed like a vice. "Hermione told me a lot about you."

"She did?" Hagrid beamed at both of them. "We've bin friends for years - since she started at Hogwarts! Helped me a lot, she did, with all sorts o' problems. Got into a lot o' trouble, too, though!" The giant - half-giant, according to Hemione - chuckled. Ron was almost sure he felt the rumbling sound in his solar plexus.

"I'm sorry, I should've visited sooner, but…" She shrugged. "When I recovered my memories, I had to deal with my parents, Harry and Ron, the Ministry…"

"Oh, don't worry about it - we've all heard about the commotion yer return made." Hagrid grinned. "I've babysat the li'l ones a few times so Harry an' Ron could go meet yeh. But come in, please! I've got cakes an' tea an' sandwiches! Not rock cakes, though - the kids can' eat 'em yet, so I've bin makin' softer cakes. Not as crunchy, bu' the kids like 'em."

Ron saw Hermione sigh with relief as soon as Hagrid turned his back. Ron, shaking his hand to get the feeling back in it - if anyone attacked just then, he wouldn't be able to hold, much less fire, his gun - was relieved as well. Hermione had warned him three times about those cakes. With drastic examples of the damage they did to teeth.

The inside of the hut was neater than Hermione had described it. Far neater and cosier.

"Did you redecorate?" Hermione asked as they took their seats at a table that was a little too tall for them.

"Yeh noticed?" The giant beamed at them. "Ever since I got me wand back, after the war, I've bin remodellin' a little. It's so much easier with a wand." As if to underline his words, he pulled out a large baton, waved it and the stove in the corner lit up. "Tea'll be ready soon."

"You got your wand back?" Hermione's face lit up. "That's great news!"

"Yeh didn' know? Yes, Harry an' Ron pushed fer a retrial. Wizengamot took a year, but finally decided tha' I was innocent, so I got me wand back. Well, a new wand, me old one was broken." He glanced to the side, where a huge umbrella was sticking out of what looked like… not the stump of an elephant's foot, but…

"Is that a troll leg?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. It's from Harry's place. He said he didn' want it any more. Reminded him o' Tonks, yeh know."

And there went the good mood. Hermione nodded with a sad expression. "She always stumbled over it."

"Yes. He wanted ter destroy it, bu'…" Hagrid shrugged, causing his chair to creak loudly. "Wouldn' have been right ter throw everything away. And it's a perfec'ly fine umbrella stand. Don' make 'em like tha' any more."

With good reason - the thing was hideous and stood out in the otherwise nice room.

"So, I've also heard you're teaching again," Hermione said after a moment.

"Yes!" The half-giant smiled, showing large teeth. "With the war over, I returned ter teachin'. And with the Ministry's changes, I can teach the tykes about all the interestin' creatures I can get!"

"That's great," Hermione lied.

"Isn' it? Last year I had a baby wyvern as a class project - still visits me from time ter time; she's livin' in the Forest. I should organise a mate fer her in a year or so, when she's mature."

How big was an adult wyvern? Judging by Hermione's forced smile, very big. "Speaking of creatures, are you also breeding new creatures?" she asked anyway.

"Tha's illegal!" Hagrid replied.

"Unless you've got permission from the Ministry," Hermione pointed out.

"I've asked, bu' they didn' grant me permission - I wanted ter cross the wyvern with a fire salamander. Would've bin like a cute tiny dragon. Ah, here's the tea!" he said as the tea kettle started whistling.

As the tea was served - with a huge cake that looked and smelled delicious - Hermione leaned forward. "I've heard it's very difficult to cross species that are of very different sizes."

"Oh, yes. There's a trick ter it, yeh know." Hagrid nodded.

"Really?" This time, Hermione didn't have to fake her smile, Ron noticed. "Could you tell me more?"

* * *

"...and tha's how yeh cross-breed creatures of wildly diff'rent sizes. Me Da taught me tha', in case I ever fell in love with a giant."

"I see…" Hermione slowly nodded as she finished taking notes. "That was very informative, Hagrid. Thank you."

A little too informative, in Ron's opinion. He could've done without knowing so many details about the sexuality of giants. Or Manticores. He nodded anyway - Hagrid was what would be called a 'gentle soul' in some books. And a 'mad scientist' in others.

"Bu' remember: It's illegal ter breed a new creature without permission from the Ministry!"

"I assure you, I won't break that law," Hermione replied.

"Good. Yeh don' wan' ter go ter Azkaban. Trust me, yeh really don' wan' ter." The half-giant shuddered.

"Yes. That the Ministry is still using Dementors is a disgrace!" Hermione spat. "They should've destroyed those abominations long ago!"

"Can' kill 'em, Hermione. They aren' really alive. Not like creatures - normal creatures, I mean."

"Alive or not, everything can be destroyed. Even spells," Hermione replied.

"Not Dementors! We tried everything in the war. Everything!" Hagrid shook his head, his huge hands gripping his stone mug so tightly, Ron thought he heard it creak.

"What about drowning?" Ron asked.

"They don' breathe."

"But they don't swim, either," Hermione retorted. "I know that. They can't glide over water - they went around when…"

"Jus' because they don' like water doesn' mean it hurts 'em," Hagrid told her. "Like bathing a cat won' kill it."

"Even though the attempt might kill you," Ron said, forcing himself to chuckle despite his disappointment. He had been quite proud that he had thought of something wizards had missed. Or at least had helped think of a way to kill Dementors.

"Well, water still serves to contain them," Hermione replied. Slowly, her lips twisted into a nasty grin.

"Let's talk abou' something else," Hagrid said, shuddering again. "I still need ter give yeh the tour!" He downed a full cup of hot tea in one gulp, then stood. "Let's go!"

* * *

Definitely a mad scientist, Ron thought half an hour and four far too close encounters with dangerous creatures later: a wyvern, Fire Crabs, Hippogriffs and even those flying horses fed on fresh meat which looked like undead demons. He could handle them, though. All of them. But visiting the Acromantula colony? An entire colony of car-sized intelligent spiders who were known to hunt humans? He had bowed out of that. Firmly and quickly. After his encounter with a giant spider in Albania, the last thing he wanted was to meet intelligent magical giant spiders.

But Hermione had gone with Hagrid, which left Ron cooling his heels by Hagrid's hut. And looking at Hogwarts. Now that he was inside the Muggle-Repelling Charms, he could see the real castle instead of some ruins.

And it was a magical castle, indeed. Disney would be jealous of the many turrets and the way it looked both real and yet magical. Or that might be his imagination taking liberties. Either way, it was a great sight. The walls, the gate, the greenhouses at the edge of the yard, the students on brooms… Oh. They had spotted him - they were flying towards him.

"Mr Weasley!" the first witch yelled as she jumped off the broom a few yards above the ground. "What are you doing here?"

She looked as young as she sounded - at most fourteen, Ron would guess. The broom slowly floated down, and she grabbed it without looking at it.

"Duh! You're visiting Hagrid, aren't you?" another witch, about the same age, said as she landed on the ground and dismounted.

"Yes, we are," Ron replied as two more teenagers - wizards this time - descended. All of them had red and gold badges - Gryffindor, then.

"'We'?"

"I'm here with Hermione," he told them.

"Oh! She's here?" the first witch blurted out with a gasp. "Hermione Granger?"

Ron nodded. "They're visiting the Acromantula colony." He noted with some satisfaction that all four kids shuddered at the news.

"Oh. Why aren't you wearing your Auror robes?" The apparent spokeswitch asked.

"Because he isn't on duty, duh!" her friend said.

He smiled at them. "Actually, it's because I'm not an Auror. I'm the muggle Ron Weasley."

"Oh!" The first witch blushed. "We should've noticed - I mean, we shouldn't have assumed that just because you're here, you'd be a wizard."

"Yes, since we know Miss Granger is living with a muggle. I mean, with you," the second girl added. "I'm Hyacinth, by the way. Hyacinth Moon."

"Claire Smith!" the first witch introduced herself. "But not from the wizarding family - I'm a muggleborn!"

"James Nott. Very distantly related to those Notts."

"Brian Wilbury." The boy nodded at Ron, then cocked his head. "So, what are you doing here? I mean, apart from waiting for Miss Granger and Professor Hagrid."

"We're visiting Hagrid. Since he was always babysitting, Hermione hadn't seen him yet."

"Oh!"

Claire took a step closer. "So what do you think of magic? Was it a shock when you found out? When Miss Granger recovered her memories?"

"Well, I like magic, but it was a shock." He had been dying, after all, when Hermione had revealed magic. "But it all worked out."

So far.

"Nice! My parents were shocked for a week after McGonagall visited! She turned the table into a pony - Mum wanted to sell it afterwards."

"How did Miss Granger show magic to you? I thought she didn't have a wand, did she?" Claire would've made a good interrogator.

"That was after she got a new wand," Ron lied.

"Oh. Where did she get a new wand? Did she visit Ollivander's?"

Ron was starting to feel like he was being interrogated. "Ah, you'll have to ask her that yourself," he said. Best to change the subject before he was caught in a lie - he didn't think Hermione would want others to know about her cache. Especially not if that might set off a search for other such caches amongst Hogwarts students. "So… you're in Gryffindor?"

"Yes!"

"Like Harry Potter!" Hyacinth added.

"Ah." Ron nodded. "The best house, hmm?"

"Of course!" Claire nodded fervently. The other kids agreed.

"Were you playing Quidditch?"

"Ah… no. We were just flying around. It's fun," James said.

"Have you ever flown on a broom?" Claire asked.

"Dummy! He's a muggle!" Hyacinth scoffed.

"Yet I have flown on a broom," Ron informed them. "Although it wasn't a fast one - nor did it go as fast as it could go. Just for fun, too." Technically, he'd flown a broom in combat, if you counted Moscow, but that had to stay secret as well.

"Oh! What kind of broom was it?" James asked.

"Quidditch fanatic," Ron heard Hyacinth mutter.

"It belonged to the Weasleys," he told them. "I didn't really pay attention to the brand," he added with a smile.

James looked shocked. "You didn't care about the type?"

"As long as it flew?" Ron shrugged.

The kid glared at him as if Ron had just admitted to a crime. No, these were Gryffindors - they probably would've been less shocked by a crime.

But Claire used the sudden, sullen silence from James to step forward again and take over. "So, what do you think of Hogwarts?"

"I haven't seen anything of the school, yet," he admitted. "We came straight to Hagrid's hut."

"We can give you a tour! We know the castle inside and out!" the girl eagerly offered.

Alone with four wizarding kids? Yeah, right. Contrary to what some people claimed, Ron had enough common sense to politely refuse the offer. "I'd like to, but Hermione should be back soon. I'll wait for her and Hagrid to return."

"Aw."

"Can we wait with you?" Brian asked. "Talking to a muggle would really help with Muggle Studies."

James was still glaring, but Claire nodded emphatically. "Yes!"

"You're a muggleborn." Hyacinth huffed. "This should be old news for you!"

Claire shrugged. "So? He's from another generation; everyone knows things were different back then."

Ron pressed his lips together. He wasn't old. But they were kids - dumb kids who didn't know any better. So he smiled. "Shoot."

"What?"

"He means, start asking questions," Claire explained. "It's something older muggles say."

Fortunately, the questions Brian asked - he seemed honestly interested in learning about muggles - were unproblematic, and Ron ignored or deflected the more daring questions from Claire and James's snide comments. And then Hermione and Hagrid returned, and the kids' attention switched to them at once.

"Miss Granger! Professor Hagrid!"

"You look like your portrait! Only older!"

Ron grinned at Hermione's expression at hearing Claire's blurted-out greeting. "These are Claire, Hyacinth, James and Brian," he introduced the students. "Gryffindors."

"I can see that," she told him before nodding at the children. "Hello, everyone."

"What are yeh doin' here?" Hagrid spoke up. "Are yeh here fer the feedin'?"

"Feeding?" Brain asked.

"No, we just saw Mr Weasley standing here and flew over to see what he was doing," James explained - he had dropped his attitude quite quickly once Hermione and Hagrid had arrived, Ron noted.

"Oh. Well, we've already fed the Thestrals, anyway," Hagrid said. "Though yeh probably can' see 'em anyway," he added with a smile. "So yeh'd jus' see the meat gettin' devoured."

"They look nice," Hermione said. "And you can pet them."

"Nice?" Claire blinked.

"Like undead horses with bats' wings," Ron explained.

"Ah."

Hermione was frowning at him, so Ron smiled widely. "So, what about a tour of the school?"

"Oh, yes!" Brian said, nodding rapidly. "We can show you everything!"

"You dummy!" Hyacinth muttered. "This is Hermione Granger! She knows Hogwarts!"

"And her portrait is at Hogwarts, too!" James added.

Hermione winced again.

* * *

The tour was very impressive - and a little exhausting. The castle didn't have a single lift, and the stairs had a tendency to move and divert you if you didn't pay attention - or so Hermione explained. At least wizards and witches couldn't apparate inside the castle, either.

"There you are!"

He turned his head and saw Hermione's portrait waving at them from what was actually a picture of a Scottish landscape with a rather annoyed-looking shepherd in the background.

"Hello! I've been looking for you ever since the Headmistress informed me of your presence!"

"Hello," Ron replied.

Hermione nodded. "We're on our way to see the Headmistress."

"You weren't in the library. Why not? It's the best place in Hogwarts! I spend hours there just looking at the books. If I could actually read them, I'd never leave!" the portrait told them.

Hermione sighed. "The library is nice, but we didn't come to Hogwarts for the library. Not today, at least."

The portrait made a gasping noise. "What could be more important than the library? Merlin's beard! Is there a new crisis? Are the students in danger?"

"No, no, we're just here to visit," Ron quickly told it.

The portrait looked confused. "Really? And you skipped the library? Are you sure you're not sick?"

Ron saw Hermione press her lips together and clench her teeth. "I really need to have another word with my friends about my portrait."

* * *

The Headmistress's office was quite different from Hermione's descriptions of her Dumbledore's office. There were no shelves full of mysterious knick-knacks, no stand with a moulting phoenix, no selection of sweets 'that rivalled Honeydukes'. And no bookshelves with an eclectic mix of forbidden tomes and trivial, even muggle, books.

No, the Headmistress's office was plain. Very plain. The only decor was the many portraits of former Headmasters and a broom mounted on the wall. While the shelves were filled with books, they were organised like in a library, down to the small tag with a code on each book's spine. The desk was spacious and elegant - but clear of anything but parchment and a quill.

All in all, it looked rather mundane. Not too different from the Headmaster's office in his old school. Which he had visited often enough to remember perfectly, for a variety of reasons, mostly good ones.

Though the portraits in that office hadn't moved, of course. And there certainly hadn't been a moving portrait of a teenage girl with wild hair that was cheerfully using her elbows to push the other portraits out of her way so she could have the best view of the office.

And the Headmaster of Ron's old boarding school had never smiled at him like McGonagall smiled at Hermione.

"Miss Granger! I'm so happy to see you at Hogwarts!" She nodded at Ron. "Mr Weasley."

Old man Madison had, however, smiled like that at parents and alumni, hoping to secure donations, Ron remembered.

"I'm very happy to be here, Professor," Hermione replied. "I mean, Headmistress."

"Ah, I still think of myself as a professor." The old witch sighed. "And I keep expecting Albus to step into the office and ask me what I'm doing here."

Ron nodded and wondered, privately, how McGonagall would react to meeting his world's Dumbledore. "It looks like you're doing well," he said. "The tour of the school was very impressive."

"But Minerva!" the portrait chose that moment to butt in, "Hermione didn't stay in the library! Something's wrong!"

McGonagall smiled, clearly amused, as Hermione frowned. "I love books, but I don't love them to the point of spending most of my time in a library," she told the portrait.

"Why not? You can read books! All the books you could want! I can't read the books - not even painted ones," it complained. "I need someone to turn the pages for me, or at least cast a page-turning spell on a book in front of my painting."

Hermione's eyes widened. "You can't read painted books? Of course you can't; they're empty. Oh, that's really bad." She frowned. "And you were told to spend all your free time in a library?"

"Yes?"

"I _really _need to talk to Harry and Ron about what they taught you," she said with a scowl.

"They meant well, Miss Granger," McGonagall interjected. "And they were in mourning."

"Still! It's been seven years." Hermione shook her head. "They didn't even think about… this problem?" She looked at the portrait. "We have to talk."

"Yes!"

"Not right now, though."

The portrait made a sound of disappointment, and its expression was the same as Hermione's when she was denied something she really wanted.

Ron knew better than to point that out, of course. McGonagall was already looking at them a little strangely - as if she was wary.

Hermione sighed. "I'm not about to start a campaign for portraits' rights, Professor. I'm fully aware that they aren't truly sapient."

"Hey! That's discrimination!" the portrait protested.

"Even though some might have been taught to dispute that," Hermione went on. "Still, as one of the few witches whose portrait was awakened despite me still being alive, I feel I'm in the unique position to argue that how a portrait is treated reflects on the reputation of the witch or wizard depicted."

"Ah, I see. You will argue that a portrait treated with negligence or ridicule is an attack on the depicted's honour."

"More or less, yes."

"What? Who's attacking me?" the portrait asked.

"No one," Hermione said. "But you should be treated better."

"Of course, since I'm you!"

"No, you aren't," Hermione mumbled.

"Now, I don't assume you visited merely to talk to your portrait, Miss Granger," McGonagall commented after a moment.

"I wanted to visit Hagrid - I've missed him on several occasions since he was babysitting for my friends. However, apart from that and showing Ron my old school, I'd also like to ask if I could peruse the library for a research project."

"Of course you can, Miss Granger." McGonagall smiled. "After all, I still expect you to take your N.E.W.T.s. Whatever employment options you're pursuing, be it research, a position at the Ministry, politics or teaching, you'll need your N.E.W.T.s."

Ron noticed how the woman smiled when she mentioned teaching. So that was McGonagall's angle - she was trying to recruit Hermione. That would also explain why she was granting her access to the library without asking for any details.

Well, McGonagall had been this world's Dumbledore's right hand, so that was to be expected.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 18th, 2006**

"I think McGonagall wants to hire you," Ron said once they were back in their room at the lab.

"Hire me?" Hermione blinked and put down on the bed the notes she had been sorting. "Oh. You think she wants me to become a teacher?"

He shrugged. "Yes."

"She should know me better than that." She shook her head. "I guess that's to be laid at the feet of the portrait - of its education, at least - as well."

"You never tutored students in school?" Ron had a hard time imagining that.

"I helped my friends. And as a prefect, I helped the lower years - and higher years."

"See?" He grinned.

She rolled her eyes in return and grabbed her notes again. "That doesn't make me a teacher. It just means I wasn't the sort of student who only cared about her own grades."

"Well, perhaps she hopes teaching would keep you out of politics?" Ron shrugged again as he tried to make his comment sound casual.

"That's not her style," Hermione said with a frown. "She's no Dumbledore."

"Yours or ours?" He stretched out on the bed, after pushing one of her sheets filled with notes away.

"Either," she replied, her frown deepening.

"She's been Headmistress for seven years," he pointed out.

"Yes. But she's still the same strict teacher I remember. If she wanted to recruit me, she'd ask." Hermione nodded firmly.

Ron didn't quite agree, but it wasn't worth arguing about. As far as plots went, this one was rather harmless.

* * *

**Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, February 20th, 2006**

"Once more into the breach," Ron said as they appeared in the familiar snowy field.

"It's actually 'once more _unto_ the breach'," Hermione said. "And it means to try again, not to literally fight in a breach."

"I like my quote better," he replied with a smile. "It's more dramatic."

She snorted. "I guess so. It's not correct, though."

"Are you sure you don't want to teach?" He smiled at her to take the sting out of his comment.

Judging by her slight frown, he hadn't completely succeeded. "I know I don't want to teach." She sighed. "Teaching my portrait is bad enough, and it is very eager to learn."

"But it's a special case, isn't it?" He shrugged. "If I had to teach a virtual intelligence that thought it was me… well, it's not the same as teaching Ginny how to handle a rifle."

"I think Harry did most of the teaching there."

"He spent more time with her, but I'm not sure if he taught her more," Ron retorted as they walked over to what looked to him like an empty spot at the foot of the hill.

Until a door appeared in the empty air.

"By the way, is the portrait making progress?"

Hermione sighed. "Slowly."

Which meant 'very slowly'.

They stepped inside. "Luna? Luna? We're back with notes from Hagrid!" Hermione called out.

Ron looked around - the warehouse looked like…

"Close the door! Before they escape!"

He shut the door without thinking, then turned, tense. If Luna - either Luina - yelled like that, you couldn't hesitate.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, a dimly glowing shield surrounding her.

"Ah, just a few birds that escaped their cages," Luna said.

"Which proves that we shouldn't put them into cages," wizarding Luna added - she was looking up, not at them, Ron noted.

"It proves that we need better cages," Luna retorted. "It's too dangerous for them, otherwise."

"As long as they can apparate, they can always escape any danger," her counterpart said.

"But they would die in the cold outside," Luna told her.

"Apparate… Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed. "Did you bring Diricawls here?"

"Diricawls?" Ron asked in a whisper.

"Magical birds that can apparate. They look like dodos," she explained.

"Oh." He blinked. "Can they fly?"

"No, just like dodos."

"Why is everyone looking up, then?" he asked.

"Because they can climb," Luna said. "They're smart and know we'd search the floor. There's one!" she pointed at a corner.

Wizarding Luna flicked her wand - and her voice filled the warehouse. "Come to us, little Diricawl. We mean you no harm. Soon, you'll be in your natural habitat - and you'll have all the space to explore you could want!"

Hermione sighed, then waved her own wand. A cage appeared around the bird. A flick of her wand later, it started to float down towards them.

"Hermione! That could traumatise poor Pedro!"

"Of course she would name them," Hermione muttered. "Sorry," she said a little more loudly. "But it's not safe for them to be outside their habitats."

"But they don't know that - they want to be free!"

"They'll live," Hermione said. "And they're safe this way."

Wizarding Luna pouted, but Luna nodded in agreement. "It's just temporary," she said. "We'll be taking them to Mauritius soon."

"Luna," Hermione said, and Ron saw that she was struggling to control herself. "Why are you planning to release magical animals into this world?"

"Because this world's Diricawl died out, of course!"

"They're not the same birds. Dodos weren't magical," Hermione said.

"Well, we can't know that," wizarding Luna replied. "The muggles think they're extinct in our world, too."

"But if they were magical, then they wouldn't have died out."

"Yes." Wizarding Luna nodded.

"Did you check?"

"It's a hypothesis," the witch replied with a pout. "But in any case, there's a missing spot for a bird on Mauritius, and filling it won't hurt anyone!"

"This world isn't set-up to cope with magic," Hermione pointed out.

"Diricawls don't have natural predators in our world, either, so it'll be fine!"

"You can't know that."

"We'll take precautions," Luna said. "Like with the portal."

"But…" Hermione closed her mouth. "Fine," she spat.

Ron didn't comment.

* * *

"I guess I can't complain about my own words being turned back against me," Hermione said after they had left the hidden warehouse again.

"But you'll do so anyway," he told her.

She sighed. "There's a difference between exploring the multiverse after taking all reasonable precautions and deliberately introducing a magical species to this world."

She was correct, but… "I'm not sure the dodo will be much of a threat, magical or otherwise," he said.

"Except for their ability to apparate. Imagine what scientists will do once they observe them. And they will - once the first 'dodos' are sighted, everyone will want to capture one to study. And then they'll escape using Apparition."

"Ah." He winced. "But in your world, the zoologists never caught on to that, did they?"

"Thanks to magical interference."

"The precautions Luna mentioned."

"Yes." She spat the word out.

"Best wait until we know what precautions they are taking?"

"Yes."

He suppressed a grin. Hermione might loathe it, but she understood that it would be unfair otherwise.

She sighed. "Let's go back to the lab. I have more research to do."

"How goes the Fidelius Charm research?" he asked as he held out his hand.

"I'm progressing as expected. It's only the exact wording that's left now," she said. "And actually casting the spell - that's a little tricky since you can't exactly cast it repeatedly to practise."

"Ah." Nothing new, then. "I can try to help with the wording." That wasn't magical, after all.

She looked at him, then nodded. "Yes."

Then they disapparated.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 21st, 2006**

The wording needed to hide the existence of the portal, but not just a specific portal. And that Hermione was responsible. 'Hermione Granger has found a way to travel to other dimensions'? No, people would still know that she's doing research, and they would connect it to the attacks on her. The attacks themselves couldn't be hidden - far too many knew about them. 'Hermione's research into other dimensions is a valid avenue of research'? No. Too vague. People could still stumble upon the truth.

Ron sighed. This was more difficult than he had expected. Although he should have expected that since Hermione had trouble finding the best wording. Something like 'Hermione Granger, working with Albus Dumbledore's support, has found a way to travel to other dimensions'? No. "Other universes exist, and Hermione Granger found a way to travel to them'?

He scribbled it down, even though it wouldn't work. Perhaps if he used the example Hermione had told him as a base? "There is a secret base in Scotland where Hermione Granger and her friends and allies use her research to travel to other universes'?"

"Not as easy as it seemed, hmm?"

He frowned at Hermione. "I've not yet begun to really work on it."

"Working on mangling quotes?"

"Of course. This is all about wording, isn't it?" He grinned at her surprised expression before it was replaced with a pout. "Hey," he added, "I cut my teeth twisting wishes in roleplaying games."

"That makes me feel so much better," she replied. "Except not."

He chuckled, but before he could comment further, the door opened, and Dumbledore entered the lab. The old man was beaming at them. "I've got good news," he told them. "We've managed to acquire the gold we'll need to pay off the Ministry of Magic."

Behind him, Ron saw Harry and Sirius push a trolley with a rather large chest on it. Oh.

He glanced at Hermione, but she looked distracted.

Ah.

* * *

_That was a lot of gold. She had heard the stories, so to speak. She had even been told the number of Galleons. But to see so much gold, on the vault's floor, stacks of gold next to heaps of coins… "Can I call you Scrooge McDuck?" she asked, snickering to hide her reaction._

_Harry laughed at her feeble joke. "I thought the same when I saw it for the first time."_

"'_Scrooge McDuck'?" Ron looked confused._

"_A comic book character. Richest duck on earth," Harry told him._

"'_Richest _duck'_?"_

"_It's a comic book series," Hermione told him. "Very famous too. You've never heard of Disney?"_

"_Oh, the movies!" Her friend nodded. "We saw a few in the village. But I never saw a duck in any of them."_

"_Ah. That character appears mostly on TV," Harry explained._

"_And in comic books," Hermione added. "But enough of that. We're not here to discuss Disney, but to grab enough gold to finance our mission." And provide for various emergencies._

"_Hermione!" Ron frowned at her. "It's Harry's gold! You can't just treat it as yours."_

_She wasn't treating it as hers - but Harry had volunteered the contents of his vault to finance their mission, hadn't he? And they had made a plan and a budget, in advance!_

"_It's OK," Harry said with a wry grin. "It's not as if I'll be able to use the gold should we fail, will I?"_

_She exchanged a glance with Ron, who winced, before schooling her features. "Indeed."_

_Sometimes, Harry's black humour was a little much._


	62. Chapter 62: The Archives

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 62: The Archives**

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 21st, 2006**

Hermione shook her head with a smile. "I've seen more gold in one place, but only once." She nodded at the chest that Harry and Sirius had opened after pushing it into the lab.

"Oh?" Dumbledore looked honestly surprised. That didn't have to mean anything, of course, given his skills in misdirection and lying.

"I visited Harry's - my Harry's - vault in Gringotts when we needed money for our mission during the war," she said.

Ron resisted the sudden urge to whistle. That must have been a lot of gold. The other Harry was probably richer than Ron's friend. Perhaps even richer than Sirius.

"More than this? How much more? And what was the price for gold at the time?" Sirius asked.

"Sirius!" Harry hissed.

"What? I'm curious about whether I'm still the richest member of our family if we count our dimensional counterparts." The man grinned.

"Harry spent a lot of his gold on rebuilding Wizarding Britain," Hermione said. "That includes Sirius's fortune, which he inherited."

"He didn't give the gold away, did he?" Sirius, for all his usual casual stance towards his own wealth, looked shocked.

"You might call it long-term investing. But he won't get a return for several years - or at all, in some cases," Hermione told him.

"So, technically, he might be richer, but he's strapped for cash, and should he be forced to liquidate his investments, he'd take a huge loss?" Sirius asked.

"That sounds about right," Hermione agreed. "Some investments were more like donations, anyway."

"So that means I'm still the richest member of our extended family!" Sirius beamed.

"And the vainest as well," Harry said. "As if it mattered."

"Of course it matters!" Sirius shook his head. "Money matters. Influence matters. If Hermione's friends were rich enough, we wouldn't have to bribe the Ministry - they would've done it long ago."

"If Harry were that rich, he wouldn't have needed to bribe the Ministry; he could've paid for an alternative prison system himself."

That sounded like a bribe - indirectly, at least, since it would free up funds. On the other hand, Ron was pretty sure that wizarding Harry would've had the funds to abolish Azkaban, but had spent it on other things that needed funding.

"Well, it would have simplified matters. But we have to deal with the situation at hand, not the situation in which we'd like to be," Dumbledore said. "And that means handing over this 'investment' à fonds perdus' to the Ministry of Magic in a form they'll accept and which will mask its true origin."

"We're going to launder money, in other words," Ron said.

"Barely a week out of CI5, and we're already breaking the law." Harry grinned.

"Money laundering is actually not illegal in Wizarding Britain. And as long as it's not money stolen from goblins, it's not illegal in Gringotts, either," Hermione explained with a frown. "If we could trust the goblins not to sell us out, we could simply exchange the gold bars for specie - Galleons, gold coins minted by the goblins of Gringotts."

"You've explained that to us." Dumbledore shook his head. "I still find myself wondering what would have possessed British wizards to let goblins mint their coin and handle their banking. Then again, Britain keeps trusting the United States despite several rather impressive examples of how foolish that stance can be."

Ron wasn't about to discuss politics - and most of it rather ancient politics - with the old man. "But you said that we can't trust the goblins," he addressed Hermione.

"We can't." Hermione grimaced. "My friends and I committed the second successful break-in into Gringotts that we know of, and the goblins bear grudges."

"You robbed a bank?" Sirius gasped. "_The_ bank of Wizarding Britain?"

"It was during the war. And we had no choice - Voldemort had stashed one of his Horcruxes in a vault there, and the goblins wouldn't cooperate. And it wasn't a robbery - we snuck in. We only had to fight our way out after we were discovered."

Harry snickered. "We're in the presence of a master criminal, gents!"

Dumbledore chuckled as well. "Needs must, Dr Granger - I understand that perfectly. However, it does present us with a slight problem."

"Yes. The goblins couldn't do anything against Harry and Ron, not with them being some of the most famous and most influential wizards after the war, and they officially pardoned all of us, but they would love to hurt me if they could do so without breaking any treaties or laws. And passing on information about suspected crimes…" She shrugged. "We'll have to launder the money so the goblins will be fooled."

Dumbledore's smile grew wider. "I love a good challenge."

* * *

**Soho, London, Wizarding World, February 22nd, 2006**

"Normally, we could simply acquire a piece of antique furniture, claim we found it in the attic, and use it to explain where the money came from," Dumbledore said after everyone had sat down in the cosy café in Soho he'd recommended - protected by a privacy charm Hermione had cast. "Unfortunately, the amount of money we need to convince the Ministry to do what is right and decent is too high for such a cover. We could use multiple pieces, but that would strain credibility."

"The Ministry wouldn't care," Hermione told them. "Nor would they notice. A number of their employees probably have entire suites of valuable furniture stashed in their attics of which they aren't aware. But we cannot risk underestimating the goblins. They handle the finances of Wizarding Britain, and they have ties to the muggle economy. They have to, to be able to exchange pounds for Galleons for muggleborns so they can shop in Diagon Alley."

"That alone wouldn't require close ties or in-depth experience with Britain's economy and financial system," Dumbledore retorted. "A single exchange of goods that have a value in both countries would suffice for the sort of sums needed to pay for school supplies. The numbers are just not that large. Even if every muggleborn were to work in Wizarding Britain but live amongst muggles, therefore needing a constant supply of pounds, that could be easily handled by selling precious metals."

Hermione frowned. "Yes, but Gringotts does have close ties to - or interests in, at least - the British economy. We found that out when we researched the bank for our…"

"Heist?" Ron asked with a grin.

"...our mission." Hermione pursed her lips. "We didn't take anything other than our objective, the possession of which was, in any case, illegal."

"And the goblins still hate you for it?" Harry looked surprised.

Hermione blushed. "We did cause considerable collateral damage when we fled the premises."

"What did you do?" Sirius asked. "Blow up their vaults?"

"We released a dragon the goblins were using as a guard," she replied. "Though that was also completely justified - they were keeping the poor thing chained up in the lowest level of the bank!"

She set a dragon loose in a bank… Ron chuckled. It seemed that Hermione was a little more like Luna than she wanted to admit.

"Further, we decided on using gold to transfer the money, not antiques or art, since it's generally more discreet," Dumbledore went on.

"Unless it's Nazi gold," Ron pointed out.

If the interruption annoyed the old man, he didn't show it. He smiled and nodded. "Indeed - we actually considered using that as a cover, hinting at having found a Nazi submarine which had been transporting gold. Alas, while quite entertaining, it would have provided the goblins with the opportunity to inform the British authorities about a possible crime, which would have almost certainly led to a thorough investigation of Dr Granger's finances. And since she was missing for seven years, that would certainly turn up a few discrepancies unless the Ministry of Magic were to intervene. And that would, most likely, be a little counter-productive."

"So, now that we know what we won't be using as a cover story, how about telling us what we'll actually be using? So we can start memorising the details?" Sirius cocked his head as he smiled, showing his teeth.

"Indeed!" Once again, Dumbledore remained unflappable. "We'll be using the opportunity to also deal with Mr Weasley's missing identity in this world."

Ron blinked. The old man couldn't mean…

"You want to break into the government's archives to create an identity for Ron and set him up with the gold?" Harry blurted out.

"Correct. I'm thinking of you being raised by a rich uncle who had shares in an African gold mine before he was forced to leave the continent for the mother country." Dumbledore smiled.

"That sounds oddly specific," Ron commented.

"It's a background my men used for a sting operation that needed to be kept off the official records. Seeing as our two worlds show remarkable parallels, I have no doubt that we can duplicate the feat and insert your and your late uncle's identities, with no one the wiser. All we need to do is to break into a few archives and one data centre." Dumbledore beamed at them.

Ron blinked. "First, the Kremlin and now Whitehall?"

"What's next, Buckingham Palace?" Harry quipped.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Fortunately, Her Majesty the Queen isn't involved in the day to day running of the country, so we won't be forced to intrude on her home."

"Good. As an officer in the Blues and Royals, I would be honour-bound to stop you," Sirius said with a grin. "The Treasury, though, has been known as the British Army's arch-enemy for centuries."

"Oh, indeed. I must confess that I'm looking forward to pulling one over that particular part of Her Majesty's Government."

Great, Ron thought.

* * *

**City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 23rd, 2006**

"I think we're taking this a little too lightly," Ron said as he walked to the kitchen of the apartment they had rented near - but not too close - to their target. Far enough that it wouldn't trigger any flags in the system.

"How so?" Harry asked from where he was looking at the laptops on the dining table which showed the feeds from the cameras they had placed the night before - while invisible and on brooms.

"We did break into the Kremlin, but that was with the help of magic, in a world without magic. And we were still almost caught by Putin's guards," Ron explained. "This time? We're up against a government which knows about magic, at least at the highest levels, and in a world with thousands of wizards and witches - organised wizards and witches with countries of their own and a vested interest in policing magic."

"But we're not trying to kidnap the Prime Minister, and I don't think the clerks and guards in the archives are aware of magic," Harry replied. "Nor would they expect an attack."

"But they might be following procedures which were implemented with magic in mind. And the Ministry might be keeping an eye on the archives to prevent a wizard from amassing wealth by changing entries. Like what we're planning to do."

"We're not gaining anything other than a cover story for the money Dumbledore's donating," Harry retorted.

"But we could do so much more," Ron said.

His friend shrugged. "Only if we were aware of assets without an actual or known owner. Trying to take over a building owned by someone else would only draw attention to the attempt, and not even the government would be so foolish as to simply accept the results from the archives."

"Sirius would disagree," Ron told him.

"He's not unbiased." Harry snorted. "And Hermione confirmed that the building isn't under magical protection."

Hermione had checked - Ron had been there - but she hadn't checked inside the building. He couldn't shake his gut feeling that this wouldn't be as easy as the others expected. Too much could go wrong. "They might have some hidden alerts - or protections on the archives themselves." Or some magical guard-beasts or constructs.

"I actually don't really think that the wizards care much about the muggle government," Harry said. "Not after what we've heard."

"We still can't risk it," Ron replied.

"We won't. We're just going to add a few records, that's all. We won't even change any existing entries." Harry grinned. "You know that as long as nothing's missing, people are less likely to notice anything amiss."

Ron snorted. That was how they had once managed to infiltrate a drug-smuggling organisation - they had added more money to the stash they had discovered. Money they could trace. But still... "I guess I just worry that this is too good to be true." After all, he'd end up with a solid ID in this world, Hermione's world. He would have a paper trail, a history - a legal existence. He wouldn't have to fear being mistaken for this world's Ron any more - or be exposed as a double, should he run into trouble with the law.

"It isn't," Harry said, grinning more widely. "You'll have to pay taxes here and in our world."

Ron snorted. Of course his friend would know what Ron was thinking. "It won't be my money. Dumbledore will have to pay them."

"Then you'll owe him."

"Compared to what we already owe him? It'll be a drop in the ocean." Ron scoffed. He didn't like it, but it wasn't as if they had a better alternative. Which was pretty much how Dumbledore liked it, of course.

Harry grunted. "That's quite cavalier of you."

"I like to call it realistic. Or opportunistic." And Ron wasn't so naive as to really feel obligated to Dumbledore. The old man was using them, so it was perfectly fine to use him in return. "Anyway, focus on tracking the schedules of the guards." That was their task, after all.

Harry scoffed. "We won't be sneaking in during the day. What we need are the night schedules."

"You never know what you might need," Ron told him.

"Is that a quote from Moody or Hermione?"

"Arse."

Harry laughed but focused on the screens again. And Ron returned to studying the blueprints. He wasn't about to underestimate the muggle government here.

Despite his experiences in his own world.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 23rd, 2006**

He was getting used to commuting to another world - and across all of Britain - Ron realised as he stepped through the portal into Hermione's lab. Or, rather, into the heavily guarded portal room - he could spot a gun emplacement, a sentry gun, as far as he could tell, that hadn't been there when he had left.

"Isn't that a little obvious?" Harry asked, looking at the light machine gun as well.

"It'll be hidden once they're done."

Ron whirled and had his gun out before he recognised the voice - Fred. Or George. No, he realised as he didn't see anyone, wizarding Fred or George. Unless this was the work of hidden microphones…

"Whoa! Don't shoot!"

"We're not your brothers! We're their innocent counterparts!"

Ron sighed as he holstered his gun. "Don't do that. We almost shot you. Unless you had cast a Shield Charm."

"Not yet," one of the still invisible wizards replied. "That was supposed to be the next test."

"Test?" Harry asked, frowning as he reholstered his own pistol.

The two wizards faded into view. "Testing the new sensors that were installed."

"Ah." Ron looked around, spotting a few more not-quite-perfectly-concealed additions to the room.

"Yes! Your Grindelwald is a firm believer in the idea that 'anything the Russians can do we can do better'," wizarding Fred said with a familiar grin, "and hasn't spared any expense to prove it true."

"He's had his people duplicate and improve on all the sensors from your Kremlin," wizarding George added. "So far, they're working well."

"We'll find a way to beat them, though," his brother boasted. "And then we'll help with finding a way to beat what beat them."

"Ah." Harry echoed Ron. "Did you add magical defences as well?"

"Protective enchantments?" wizarding George cocked his head. "We're still working on those - Hermione did a good job."

"Not a perfect job, mind you," his brother went on. "But she's not a Curse-Breaker."

"Neither are you," Ron said.

"No, but we've got a lot of experience with magical defences," wizarding Fred claimed. "We had to, in our line of business."

"And, essentially, wards are just a variant of protective charms," wizarding George told them.

"Wards?"

"Permanent magical defences. You can cast protective charms so that they'll last a long time, if you're good. Perhaps even forever, if you're Dumbledore. Our Dumbledore. Not that you could test that. But they won't grow more powerful with age, nor will they be particularly hard to dispel - for a decent Curse-Breaker," the wizard explained.

"Wards can be downright lethal, old boy," his brother added. "And that's the reason why we had so much trouble with the richer Death Eaters - they weren't actually that good with a wand, but their wards have had centuries to grow. Nasty business, that."

Ron could imagine. "Well, that isn't an option for us."

"But you can do the next best thing if you're clever and talented," wizarding George said.

"Which we are," the other twin added. "And handsome and charming, too!"

"Sure you are," Harry replied in a flat tone.

"Oi!"

Ron laughed. "Well, don't let us hold you up any longer. We've got a report to make and a break-in to plan."

"That won't please Ginny - well, this world's Ginny," wizarding Fred said.

"Ginny's here?" Harry frowned. "She's supposed to be training for her comeback on the tour."

"She probably finished training in London and then called Hermione or Luna for a lift here," Ron told him.

"Hermione," wizarding Fred confirmed. "She complained that Luna's cell phone wasn't working."

Probably because Luna was with her counterpart in their hidden magical habitat.

"And we haven't received cell phones that work in this world, yet," wizarding George said. "Though Luna's said she'll help us become untraceable."

That was a worrying smile. Very worrying.

"Do you know where Ginny is?" Harry asked.

"In the lounge, watching the telly," wizarding Fred told him. "Probably growing more and more annoyed with every moment you spend talking to us if she's anything like our sister. Which she seems to be."

"But don't worry, we'll explain to her that you were simply tired."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Perhaps you should watch some TV as well, if only to learn better jokes."

"Oi!"

Harry scoffed and left the room, and the twins turned towards Ron.

He held up a hand before they could start. "Hermione knows you. Any attempt to get me in trouble with her will backfire."

"That's a risk we're willing to take." Wizarding Fred grinned.

"Well, what about your work here?" Ron asked. "Think Grindelwald will be happy to hear you held up everyone because you wanted to prank people?"

"Dumbledore would be happy!"

That was why Ron hadn't mentioned the old spymaster, but rather his cranky German partner.

"But point taken. Now get lost! You're holding up an entire shift!"

Ron shook his head and left the portal room.

* * *

He found Hermione in her new laboratory in front of a whiteboard filled with various wordings, poring over several notebooks and loose sheets. "Hey!"

She looked up and blinked. "Oh. You're back already?"

"I feel so loved," he replied, chuckling.

She blushed in response even as she frowned at him. "I didn't mean it like that! I just realised that I lost track of time."

"Is that a good thing?" He stepped over to her desk and craned his neck, peering at the notes. They were all variations of the wording for the Fidelius Charm.

"It would be a good thing if I had made significant progress." She sighed.

He pointed at one of the sheets. "That sounds like it covers everything."

"Yes. It's also half a page. I can't cast the spell with such a long secret."

"Oh."

"I'll have to condense things. But even so…"

"...you'll have to make compromises," he finished for her.

"Yes." Another sigh had her slumping over.

He knew very well that she hated compromising on anything, but didn't mention it.

"Well, at least Operation: Official Identity looks like it'll happen on schedule," he said, carefully sitting down on the edge of her desk - he didn't need to get ink stains on another pair of trousers.

"Oh. You already got the guard schedule?" She tilted her head, looking at him.

"We'll have it tomorrow. The cameras are working fine." He shrugged. "If the floorplans and security systems are the same as in this world and there's no magical protection, we shouldn't have any trouble executing Dumbledore's plans."

"'If'," she said. "Otherwise, you'll be in trouble."

"I expect there to be trouble," he replied. "When do things ever go according to plan for us?"

She shook her head. "That's not a logical conclusion. Just because we've had some bad luck in the past doesn't mean it'll continue to plague us at every opportunity."

"That's the logical argument. But my gut disagrees."

"You mean Moody's training disagrees."

"That too." He nodded. "But yes, I'm still not as optimistic as Dumbledore." The old man was probably a little too affected by his sudden rejuvenation, in Ron's opinion. Living vicariously through others was a problem if said others were sent to break into government buildings using decades-old plans. On the other hand, the British government was slow to change anything without a pressing reason.

But in Hermione's world, the government knew about magic. Ron simply couldn't believe they wouldn't take at least some basic countermeasures.

"Well, neither am I," Hermione said. "So let's get ready for dinner. We can discuss things with Dumbledore then."

* * *

"I've compared the results from Mr Potter and Mr Weasley's reconnaissance, and I've confirmed that the building conforms in every significant way to its counterpart in our world," Dumbledore announced as he savoured a glass of port. "With the exception of potential magical security measures, of course."

"Of course." Harry smiled rather tensely.

"Don't worry," wizarding Fred said. "Leave the magic to us - we'll deal with it. You just focus on the muggle stuff."

"This isn't the same as infiltrating wizarding homes," Hermione told them with a sharp glare.

"We've also infiltrated the Ministry," wizarding George pointed out.

"That wasn't exactly a challenge," Hermione retorted. "The Ministry's security wasn't very good - even though it should've been."

"We've also studied your defences here," the wizard told her. "And I doubt that the muggle archives are as well protected as the portal."

"And those defences wouldn't stop us," his brother added.

"While I doubt that the government would spend as much money on the security of their archives as we are currently spending on this location, the Treasury has never been a bastion of common sense, and I cannot claim it would be impossible to encounter advanced sensors set up to detect magical intruders," Dumbledore said. "However, we will prepare for that eventuality - we shall proceed with the utmost caution."

"That'll require a little more preparation," Ron replied. "Especially if we're working with people who haven't worked with us before." And who had no experience with muggle tactics.

"I think that would be prudent, yes." Dumbledore nodded.

"And I think we should run a few exercises so Fred and George know how we work," Harry added.

Ron grinned. That was a great idea. "We'll start with taking you on our regular morning run."

"'Morning run'?" Wizarding Fred looked a lot less confident than before. As did his brother.

"We'll start easy - just one lap around the lake, I think," Harry said.

Ginny scowled. "I'll need at least two for a decent workout."

"They won't last two laps," Ron told her.

"Not without cheating and using magic," Hermione added.

"Oi!"

"I think they're taking the mickey," wizarding George said.

Ron's grin widened.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, February 24th, 2006**

The twins started talking as soon as Ron entered the lounge.

"You're evil. Evil."

"You may look like a Weasley, but you're far too cruel to be one."

"Evil."

"Cruel."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You're getting repetitive," he told them as he took a seat at the table. Their reaction to the morning run had been amusing at first, but now it was merely annoying.

"So were you when we ran!"

He shrugged. "I wasn't aiming for originality."

"Besides, we were going easy on you," Ginny said as she entered, followed by Harry. Her hair was still a little wet - unlike the twins, who had apparated into the private areas of the laboratory to avoid tipping off the MI5 guards, the rest of their group had run back to the lab. "When we started doing this, we ran faster and for longer."

"'Faster and longer'?" Wizarding Fred perked up.

"Don't!" Hermione snapped as she joined Ron. "It's not as funny as you think."

Harry glared at the twin as well.

"Everyone's a critic," the wizard complained, crossing his arms and huffing.

"But not everyone's an out of shape slowpoke," Ginny retorted. "Even Hermione was faster than you when we started."

Ron saw Hermione briefly frowning at the indirect insult. "Now that we know that Fred and George won't win any track and field events, we should focus on the next part of the training and evaluation drill," she said as she grabbed the teapot to fill her cup - or mug, this time. She must be thirsty, Ron realised; The twins didn't know it, but today's run had been a little more challenging than usual.

"The next part?" wizarding George asked.

"Weapons training."

"Oh!" Suddenly, both wizards were beaming at them. "The fun part!"

"No, the dangerous part," Harry corrected them. "You don't have fun with guns."

"Not as a rookie, at least." Sirius must have overheard them on the way since he spoke just as he entered the lounge. "I could tell you stories of what happens when people fool around with guns…"

"Please do," Hermione told him. "It might impress upon them the consequences of failing to take firearms seriously. I don't hold out much hope, knowing them, but the possibility, however scant, remains."

Ron hoped she was mostly joking. Guns weren't toys.

"Oi!"

"Prove me wrong," she told them.

"We will!"

Sirius, of course, was smiling widely at the chance to finally repeat all the gruesome stories which everyone who knew him had grown tired of long ago. "So, this was shortly after the Argies had surrendered…"

"'Argies'?" wizarding Fred asked.

"The Argentinians. In the Falklands War," Sirius replied.

"'Falklands War'?"

The former officer sighed. "Alright. Short history lesson…"

Ron tuned him out and focused on eating breakfast. They had been running a bit more than usual, after all, and he had worked up an appetite.

* * *

After breakfast, the twins had seemed to have been at least a little sobered by Sirius's stories - which tended to change whenever he told them, but that was neither here nor there. But now, on the shores of the Black Lake, it was obvious that even the detailed - and, in Ron's opinion, completely made-up - tale of the soldier who had shot his own foot off hadn't made them take this seriously enough not to stare with open glee at the rifles Harry and Ron had brought with them.

He double-checked that the fire-control selector was limited to semi-automatic before clearing his throat. "So! You've learned how a gun works. Now let us demonstrate what one can do." He held his hand up as the twins reached for the gun. "We will demonstrate."

Perhaps blowing through a few trees would impress the wizards enough to handle the rifles with caution. Ron wasn't very optimistic, though - wizards generally didn't seem to take physical dangers as seriously as they should. Then again, they could heal most injuries easily. Most.

"Watch the tree there," he said as he grabbed the rifle. "We've installed a shot trap behind it." Hermione had conjured it up, which greatly facilitated training, of course. And would help to fool MI5.

He raised the rifle to his shoulder, aimed and started pulling the trigger, emptying half a magazine into the tree.

The twins weren't impressed, though, even if they didn't say so - he could tell from their expressions; his own brothers had taught him that.

Well, Harry and Ron weren't done, yet. "Now, let's look how long it takes to go through a Shield Charm."

Hermione flicked her wand, and a shimmering field of magical energy appeared in front of the tree.

It took the rest of the magazine to shatter it, but the twins finally looked suitably impressed that they could begin teaching them basic firearms safety.

* * *

"Hah! Every shot a hit! Score!"

"That was luck, Fred!"

"Fred? I'm George!"

"I thought I was George?"

"No, today I'm Fred."

Ron sighed and rolled his eyes. After an hour on the improvised shooting range, the twins were scoring decently - for beginners. Which meant they were getting cocky again. "Alright," he said. "Now let's get the laser tag gear and see how you do in the field. Without you being able to shoot yourself - or us - by mistake."

"Oi! We wouldn't do that!"

"We fought in the war!"

"But you've never handled guns in the field," Harry replied. "Let's get you suited up."

"What's this 'laser tag' anyway?"

"It's called Ausbildungsgerät Duellsimulator, in German," Ron explained. "It lets you shoot rays of light at each other instead of bullets, and records and reports when you hit someone."

"It's great for exercises," Harry added with a grin.

"So we're forming teams?" wizarding Fred asked. "Like for Quidditch?"

"Yes," Hermione told him. "And I'll be the referee, to ensure you don't use magic to cheat."

Ron took note of how the faces of the twins fell slightly in response to this. Really, had they expected anything else? "First, it'll be you two against me and Harry," he told them. "Later, we'll switch the teams up."

"Alright!"

* * *

"Well, that went… as expected," Harry said an hour later, back in the warm laboratory's lounge.

"Fred and George died five times each - and once they shot each other by mistake," Hermione said, looking through the records on her computer.

"That's because you cheated!" wizarding Fred protested. "You used smoke bombs."

"Only magic wasn't allowed," Ron told him. "Everything else was perfectly fine."

"That's not fair! We didn't know about all our options!" wizarding George added - a little more vehemently than usual, Ron noted.

"Exactly," Harry said with a smirk, "and it's best to learn in training that you are out of your depth rather than in the field. You won't know everything muggles can do."

"So… how common are smoke bombs?"

"Less common than flashbangs," Ron replied, "but not very rare. If the police are called in and encounter the kind of resistance we can put up, they'll call reinforcements, who will come with such grenades."

"And they'll bring assault rifles as well," Harry added. "Anyway, you now know about crossfire and that you really need to check your target before you shoot."

"And that you're cheaters!" wizarding George repeated. "You used some muggle flying machines to track us!"

"Yes, we did." Ron grinned. "Just to show that you can't underestimate the muggle defences of the archives."

"We couldn't use magic or we'd have easily fooled your machines!"

"Could you?" Harry shook his head. "You were surrounded by snow, and we were using thermographic cameras. Even if you had disillusioned yourselves, we could've tracked the heat leaving your bodies."

"And melting the snow," Ron added. "Though you did erase your tracks quite competently."

"Thank you. But those tricks won't work inside a building!"

"That depends on how sensitive the camera resolution is. And how easily your surroundings absorb heat," Hermione added. "It wasn't a problem when we were infiltrating the Kremlin since we were shrunk to a size that was too small to trigger any sensors and were disillusioned. But we won't be doing the same thing here."

"Why not? If it works…" Wizarding Fred shrugged.

"It's also quite dangerous," she replied. "All sorts of insects and other animals are a threat. And if there are magical defences, we'd have to unshrink anyway."

"Right, I'd rather not be eaten by a spider," wizarding George said.

"Yes. It would make a terrible story," his brother agreed. "Now if it were an Acromantula…"

Ron cleared his throat. He really didn't want to think or talk about giant spiders killing people. Not even his brothers' counterparts. "So… now that you know a little more about guns, remember: Don't get in front of a gun. Stay behind us and let us shoot whatever needs to be shot."

"We can do that. I think." Wizarding Fred nodded.

"Unless Aurors start apparating behind us," his brother added. "Then it gets confusing."

"If Aurors arrive, we'll retreat," Hermione said.

"Standard Auror procedure is to cast Anti-Apparition Jinxes first thing," wizarding Geroge pointed out.

"We won't apparate," Ron told him. "We have two escape routes according to Dumbledore's plan."

"But getting away will be a little tricky," Harry said. "We'll be making liberal use of smoke grenades and flashbangs."

"No spells?"

"No spells that the average wizard wouldn't be able to cast - that might cause suspicion to fall on us. That's also why we will all be in disguise," Hermione added. "Muggle disguises."

"Oh! Neat!"

* * *

**City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 27th, 2006**

"It looks deserted, according to our cameras," Harry reported.

"It's Sunday. Only people like Percy would be working in the Ministry," Ron replied.

"Our Percy would live in the Ministry if his wife let him," wizarding Fred said, chuckling.

Ron joined in, briefly laughing. His brother had actually stayed the night in his office a few times. Then he checked his watch. "Let's get ready; our window of opportunity is approaching quickly."

Fortunately, they were already in disguise, with wigs hiding their red hair and padded overalls hiding the shape of their bodies. Four men - the expected group of cleaning men for this weekend. According to the data in the government systems, of course, which had already been carefully manipulated by Luna.

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the entrance of the underground parking lot for the government buildings in the area. The codes Luna had given them worked, and the bored-looking guard just waved them through after a cursory check of their documents. With their special gear and weapons shrunk and hidden thanks to Hermione, the metal detectors didn't sound the alarm either.

And then they were inside the building. According to their surveillance, the lift wasn't covered - but that was no reason to assume they would have privacy there. Not that they needed privacy - the plan was quite simple, after all.

Walk in, make your way to the archives, replace a certain file and adjust the electronic files. Nothing that should pose problems for a dedicated team.

Until, in a maintenance tunnel leading to the archives, Fred suddenly yelled: "Don't move! There's magic ahead!"

Ron froze, as did Harry. The two wizards passed them, wands flashing.

"Yes," wizarding George confirmed. "A detection spell, I think."

"I think you're right."

"Of course I am."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Get rid of it, please."

"Already working on it!" wizarding George replied. "This shouldn't take long."

"This can't take long," Ron told him. "We've only got two hours until the guards next make their rounds."

"Don't rush us; if that spell is linked to older spells, or even wards…"

Ron winced - he could imagine the destruction. But they were here for a reason, and he wouldn't let anything stop them.

* * *

"_Who would've thought Hermione Granger, teacher's pet extraordinaire, would stoop to stealing school records?"_

_She scowled at Ron. "First, we're not stealing any records - we're merely copying them."_

"_Well, isn't that theft of intellectual property?" Harry asked._

_She sniffed. "School records aren't intellectual property." Well, not in the muggle world._

"_But they're not meant to be public," Harry said. _

"_This is an emergency," she retorted. "We need to see Tom Riddle's school records." The boy whose diary they had found - and lost again - was at the centre of this whole affair._

_Besides, she was curious what the school's records would say about her - and how she matched up to someone who had received a special commendation from the school, and who had apparently created a unique magic item while he was still a student._

"_Let's go," she whispered._

"_Let's check if there's anyone around, first," Harry corrected her._

"_Yes," Ron added. "Wouldn't want you to curse Neville again."_

"_That was one time!" she hissed. And Neville had deserved it, trying to stop them from doing what was right._

_Harry disappeared under his Invisibility Cloak and snuck down the stairs to the common room - she heard some of the steps creak. She really needed to learn a silencing charm and the Disillusionment Charm; she didn't like to depend on Harry's heirloom for such things._

_But first, they needed the records. She checked if the magical camera she had acquired was in working order - it was - before Harry returned._

"_The coast is clear!" he whispered._

_A minute later, they were in the hallway outside their dorm, making their way towards the dungeons of Hogwarts. Where the archives were supposed to be._


	63. Chapter 63: The Records

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 63: The Records**

**City of Westminster, London, Wizarding World, February 27th, 2006**

"This is odd, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. It's an old spell - an old ward. Powerful. But it's rather… simple."

"Yes. Why would you cast a ward using such a simple spell? All the power it accumulates over time will be useless since it can be easily circumvented."

"Yes. So… trap?"

"That would be the logical conclusion, wouldn't it?"

"It would. But I haven't found any sign of the trap, yet."

"That means it's been expertly hidden."

"Yes. This might be trickier than we thought."

No shit, Ron thought as he listened to the twins' discussion. Of course it was a trap - it was the oldest trick in the book: an easy trap hiding a more difficult - and more lethal - trap. A dumb intruder would grow overconfident after dealing with the first trap and run straight into the real trap. Moody had given a few examples in training.

He tapped his radio. "We've encountered a ward," he told Hermione. "The twins are on it, but it's harder than expected."

"A ward? Inside the building?" Hermione asked.

"In the tunnel leading to the archives," he confirmed. "It's a simple spell, though, so it must be hiding another spell - or a curse."

"And whoever cast it was good," wizarding Fred interrupted. "We still haven't found even a trace of the curse."

"Alright," Hermione said. "Be careful. But don't take too long, either - we don't have unlimited time, and you don't want to be stuck in a ward if anyone notices you."

"We've done this before, you know," wizarding George told her, his voice slightly tight. Not quite snapping at Hermione, but close.

The other spell must be hidden very well if tempers were rising already - the twins, at least Ron's brothers, usually tried to appear amused and above petty concerns at all times. He cleared his throat. "Just do your job; we'll have your back."

"And our front and other body parts all over you, if we botch this up," wizarding Fred replied - with forced and utterly out of place cheerfulness.

However, that was normal for him, or so Ron assumed. Which hopefully meant that things weren't hopeless.

He looked at Harry, who was guarding their rear. His friend was tense. "We've got two hours until the next scheduled patrol," he told Harry.

"I know." His friend clenched his teeth. "And we can't be seen, or they'll check the archives thoroughly afterwards for any signs of manipulation."

Disillusionment Charms would hide them, and if they were still detected, Stunners and Obliviation could deal with the guards, but Ron would prefer to avoid using either. In and out without being seen was the goal - provided the twins could find the magical trap.

Hell, it felt like one of the more stupid D&D campaigns, with the Killer DM who wouldn't accept dice rolls for finding traps. Sometimes they had spent hours describing how their characters would search for traps. Once they had spent hours and there hadn't been a trap at all.

He blinked. What if that was the case here as well? One obvious trap, to get the morons - and make the smarter intruders suspect another trap, stalling them as they looked for it, probably for longer than dealing with an actual trap would have taken…

"Mates, what if there is no second spell?" he asked.

"What would be the point?" wizarding Fred replied. His brother was too busy, apparently, to answer - or even react.

Ron told him.

But the wizard shook his head. "That would only make sense if there were regular patrols who'd notice magical intruders. And I don't think the Ministry would waste Aurors or Hit-Wizards on such a task."

"If they did, I would be very cross," Hermione commented over the radio. "No resources to abolish Azkaban, but enough trained wizards to regularly patrol muggle archives?"

Ron bit on his lip - he knew that making a joke about the Ministry valuing paperwork more than lives wouldn't be appreciated by anyone. Well, perhaps the twins.

So all they could do was to wait and hope the twins didn't screw things up.

Who would've thought that breaking into a government archive could be as boring as filling out paperwork?

* * *

An hour later, the twins hadn't made any progress. They hadn't found even the slightest trace of a second spell, much less a second ward. And they were starting to run out of time - well, not yet, but their safety margin was being eroded.

Ron shook his head. "Mates, you haven't found anything. Let's try a walking trap detector."

"A what?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Conjure a pig or something, and have it walk down the hallway," Harry explained.

"That would trigger a trap - or an alert."

"If there is one," Ron told him. "We can't spend forever here, watching you look for something that might not exist." And whoever would have thought that seeing Ron's most annoying brothers, or at least their magical counterparts, stumped and frustrated wouldn't be amusing?

"I concur," Hermione said before the twins could reply. "We have to risk it."

"It's on your heads!" wizarding Fred complained. But he complied - as soon as his brother had finished his latest attempt to analyse the ward, the wizard waved his wand, and a large pig appeared.

The conjured animal started walking down the hallway and reached the door to the archives without anything happening at all.

Ron managed to control himself and didn't tell everyone that he had told them so, but he was grinning widely as they all approached the door. A door which wasn't, as the twins confirmed, magically protected. "This doesn't make any sense!" wizarding Fred protested. "A detection charm - a ward! Decades old! - in a maintenance tunnel, but no protection on the actual door leading to the archives? Who thought this was a good idea? The Quibbler?"

"Hey!" Ron snapped.

"Sorry. But this is… it's insane, that's what it is!" the wizard went on. "Who would create a ward with just a detection charm and no other spells?"

"Someone who really wanted to know who went through this tunnel?" his brother asked.

"We're on a mission," Harry told them. "You can speculate later about the motives of whoever cast this decades ago; now we need to get in and change the records."

"And get rid of the pig," Ron added, nodding at the animal. It wasn't acting like an animal at all, standing perfectly still, but it was completely out of place here anyway. Now, if this were the basement of Parliament…

Grumbling, wizarding Fred vanished the pig while his brother unlocked the door with another spell.

"Alright," Ron told them. "Harry's on the computer, George and I will take care of the physical records and Fred's on lookout duty." Just as planned. He turned and walked towards the section Dumbledore had marked on the floor plans without waiting for an answer. They were on the clock. "We're in," he told Hermione over the radio.

The records they needed were recent - more or less - compared to the really ancient stuff in the archives - which were probably old enough to qualify for a museum - but he still had to walk past a considerable number of shelves.

"It's almost as large as the Prophecy Room in the Department of Mysteries," wizarding George commented. "Just with paper instead of spheres."

"Spheres?"

"Yes. They hold prophecies."

Ron glanced at the wizard, and his brother's counterpart shrugged. "It wasn't my idea. Someone probably thought it was the perfect solution for storing prophecies. Or there wasn't a better way to record them at the time, and no one bothered to change the system after better ways were developed."

Ron snorted - that sounded like what the British government would do, alright. His father complained about hidebound traditionalists often enough. "This is just one floor," he told wizarding George, "there are several more below us."

"Wow. And I thought our Ministry loved paperwork."

Ron snorted again. But before he could reply, they reached their destination. "Here we are - London birth records."

"But we're from Devon."

"Your branch of the family is. My completely fictive branch obviously moved to London at the start of the twentieth century." Which church records in Ottery St Catchpole would confirm once the Lunas finished altering them.

"Ah. No spells, by the way."

"Good." That would've been a nasty surprise, finding spells on the archives here. "Let's do it, then."

"Yes, yes. Just like we practised."

Ron suppressed a grin. Wizarding George might complain, but proper training prevented debacles. He'd rather not have his records spontaneously combust or turn into a rat after a day or two or something - something not entirely out of the question in light of some of Hermione's tales from her classes at Hogwarts.

He sorted through the files - everything seemed in order. It wouldn't do to replace the file and misfile it at the same time. Then he pulled out the first register he needed. "Alter this one."

While wizarding George worked, Ron went after the next set of records. His fake identity needed a complete and convincing paper trail, back to his grandparents, after all.

* * *

They had about fifteen minutes left before the next guard patrol was scheduled when they finally finished and returned to the exit, where Harry and wizarding Fred were already waiting.

"Got it!" the wizard announced as soon as they reached him.

"What?" Ron asked. "And not so loud, please."

"I know what was up with the ward," wizarding Fred explained. "Someone needed to catch an intruder, but didn't know when they would make their move, so they installed a ward to alert them and then never bothered to remove it!"

Had he spent the entire time pondering that instead of keeping an eye out for trouble?

"And why would they not simply cast the spell instead of creating a ward? Were they planning to be ready to intervene for years on end?" wizarding George retorted.

"The question should be: Why are we wasting time here instead of moving?" Harry snapped. "Let's go!"

"Oh, alright, let's go." Instead of opening the door, wizarding Fred reached for their hands.

"No!" Harry shook his head. "We'll leave as we came - as planned."

Without magic. Ron wasn't entirely sure how long traces of spells remained, but it was best to minimise the risk.

* * *

They made it out without trouble - which was a little suspicious, Ron had to admit. On the other hand, they had all the floor plans and schedules they needed, and the guards weren't exactly alert. And since it was a Sunday, few, if any, civilians were out and about in the building. Or nearby. But Moody had taught them that you were the most vulnerable once you thought you were done with a mission.

Still, Ron couldn't help expecting an ambush at every corner as they walked back to the flat they were using as a base. But nobody attacked them. And Ron couldn't spot any attempts to follow them, either.

Very suspicious, indeed. What would Moody do in this situation? The old police officer would probably create a diversion to escape - or force the observers to reveal themselves. The latter was not a good idea - drawing attention was the last thing they wanted - and they'd escape as soon as they were reunited with Hermione, who was waiting for them in the flat.

As they entered the house, Ron clenched his teeth. He almost wanted to be attacked, just to break the tension. Almost.

"There you are!" Hermione greeted them, her beaded bag hidden inside a plastic bag which she had thrown over her shoulder.

"Where else would we be?" Wizarding Fred snorted. "Not even an age-old mystery was enough to stop us!"

She rolled her eyes at his boasting. "It was enough to almost stop you."

"Almost catching the Snitch or Quaffle doesn't count," the wizard replied.

"Mission accomplished," Ron reported. "Once the Lunas have altered the records in Ottery St Catchpole, my new identity will be perfect."

"They finished - and without getting stalled, despite some rather interesting spells in the village church," Hermione told him.

"Interesting spells?" George asked. "Do tell!"

"I don't have details, but it seems that we aren't the first wizards and witches to alter muggle records with magic." Hermione flashed a toothy smile. "And guess who're the main suspects?"

"It wasn't us!" wizarding Fred protested at once.

"We hadn't considered the potential of such manipulations, to be honest," his brother added. "Although the real challenge is doing the same with Ministry records! Imagine if it came out that certain families never actually owned their land, but stole it from muggles…"

"'I'm certain that that has happened more than once," Hermione said, "and that no one in the Ministry cared."

"Well, times change," wizarding George replied. "And the current Ministry is very different to the old one. If they found traces of a blatant attempt to hide such manipulations..." He grinned.

"The new Ministry is also far better protected than the old one," Hermione pointed out. "Or so I've been told. And we have too many important problems to solve to indulge in pranks."

"Not to mention that all the bigots were dealt with anyway, weren't they?" Ron added. "You'd only hurt a distant relative who didn't have anything to do with the war."

"Based on their voting habits, some of the new Wizengamot members probably only didn't join Voldemort because he wasn't pure enough for them," wizarding George said.

"And it would be a challenge!" Wizarding Fred grinned.

They weren't serious. Probably - Ron wasn't completely sure. "Let's go," he said. "We can discuss things further back home."

"Oh, no wonder you and Hermione got together - you think of her lab as 'home' as well!"

Ron rolled his eyes again. There were definite drawbacks to hiring his family's counterparts.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, February 27th, 2006**

"You know, the spells on the church register in Ottery St Catchpole…" Wizarding George slowly shook his head as he sat down in an armchair in the lab's lounge.

"Which must have been the work of the Diggory family," his brother interrupted him. "It wasn't our family - we have it from a reliable source that we're the worst delinquents in seven generations, and we didn't do it - and it wasn't the Lovegoods, because, well… you know them."

With the exception of wizarding Luna, Ron actually didn't know them well, but he nodded anyway.

"Anyway!" wizarding George continued. "The spell in the muggle archives… I think we should investigate it."

"That's what I've been saying for hours!" wizarding Fred exclaimed.

"Yes, but I've thought of a good reason for doing so," wizarding George replied.

"Do you suspect a conspiracy?" Hermione looked very sceptical.

"Well… Not quite a conspiracy. But there has to be a reason for it. And since we - now - know how useful such records, properly manipulated, can be, it stands to reason that other wizards will have discovered this before us," wizarding George told her.

"It could just be coincidence. Occam's razor," Hermione said.

"Occam?"

"It means that if you have two competing theories that make exactly the same predictions, the simpler one is the better," Hermione explained.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action," Ron said.

"We only have two points of data," Hermione retorted with a smile. "Coincidence."

"Unless we find a third data thingie!" wizarding Fred piped up.

"That shouldn't be too hard," his brother agreed.

Ron wasn't so sure, but he wouldn't stop them. If they were busy investigating a mystery, they weren't busy doing something more dangerous. And there was another point to consider. "What if the Ministry has copies of the records?" Ron asked. "If they check them for my identity…"

Hermione's eyes widened, but the twins shook their heads. "I've never heard of the Ministry keeping muggle records," wizarding Fred said.

"And Dad's been working for the Ministry for decades - he'd have told us if they had muggle records. You know how he is about all things muggle," wizarding George added with a nod towards Hermione.

"But would he have known about a rarely used archive?" Hermione asked.

"If they have such records, wouldn't they have checked them already after you appeared?" the wizard replied with a glance at Ron.

That was a good point. Although… "Wouldn't have Harry and Ron handled that?" Ron shrugged. "They know the truth, so they would've been able to cover for us."

"Without telling us?" Hermione pursed her lips.

"They might not have wanted to give you another reason to criticise the Ministry," Ron suggested.

"They know better than that!" she insisted.

They hadn't seen her for seven years, though. Ron briefly bit his lower lip.

"We haven't even determined yet whether any copied muggle archives exist in the first place," wizarding Fred said. "Percy hasn't mentioned anything like them, either. And he talks about the thickness of cauldron bottoms for hours if you let him."

"That's actually a very important regulation," Hermione told them. "Defective cauldrons can cause lethal brewing mishaps."

"Getting bored to death can also be fatal," wizarding Fred retorted.

Ron was about to agree, but Hermione's frown had grown more pronounced, so he cleared his throat instead and tried to get the conversation back on track. "Anyway, I think we should just ask your Percy if the Ministry has such an archive."

"He's a stickler for the rules, though family comes first, and you're sort of family. Twice," wizarding George said.

"Twice?" Hermione asked.

"Once for being a Weasley from another dimension, and once for being a sort of in-law, since you're like an honorary Weasley yourself," the wizard explained with a sly grin.

Hermione groaned, but she was smiling. And it was - for Fred and George - endearing. Sort of.

"But we really should first check if there are other muggle archives with spells on them," George said.

"Alright." Hermione nodded. "We don't have to start the bribery right away, anyway."

"And it's always better to check if your cover story is solid before launching an undercover operation," Ron added.

"Constant vigilance!" wizarding Fred exclaimed with a grin.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, February 28th, 2006**

"So, we've got good news and bad news," wizarding George said. "Which do you want to hear first?"

"Start with the good news, please," Dumbledore replied. "I assume we will have to focus on the bad news, so it's best to get the good news out of the way."

"Alright! The good news is: The Ministry doesn't care about muggle records," the wizard told them. "So there are no hidden or secret copied archives."

"Also, Percy was really annoyed at being woken up early in the morning for an emergency," his brother added with a grin. "That's also good news!"

Ron chuckled - he could imagine that.

"The bad news is, we're definitely not the first wizards to meddle with muggle records," wizarding George said with a sigh. "We've checked a number of church records and we've found three more warded ones."

"Coincidentally, all of the spelled records were related to old wizarding families, often dating back to the time before the Statute of Secrecy," wizarding Fred added.

"They've been adding people to families. Or removing them," Hermione said.

"That's our conclusion as well," wizarding George replied. "Remove all records of squibs. Or the family members who married below their station."

"Or pick an old family and create a cadet branch - either through a 'squib line' or by claiming they emigrated generations ago - and then return to reclaim your family heritage," Hermione said.

Ron assumed she had considered that herself, at least hypothetically.

"Both are likely explanations, though some of those spells might have been cast to prevent such shenanigans," Dumbledore told them. "However, this poses a problem for our plan." His smile turned rather wry. "The Ministry might not care, but if such behaviour is or was common, then Gringotts might have developed procedures to deal with fraudulent claims against them."

"And they could sell us out if they realise we're using a fake identity," Ron said. "Worse, they might wonder why we're using a fake identity for me, since I should have one already, and investigate."

"Indeed." Dumbledore's usually jovial expression turned serious as he spoke. "We should, therefore, verify whether or not the goblins have access to such records before we embark on our own operation."

"That could be tricky," wizarding George said. "Very few people have ever managed to successfully break into Gringotts. In fact, we only know of two of them - Voldemort and our very own Hermione, Harry and Ron. Our Ron. And it's debatable whether or not Voldemort counts since he didn't get what he wanted."

"I think my involvement in the - completely justified - break-in won't help matters. The goblins will have fixed the hole in Gringotts' security that we used to break in," Hermione pointed out, smiling ruefully. "Should we plan to approach them about this, then we shouldn't mention my involvement; it will only serve to antagonise them."

"Do they value revenge over profit, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"They prefer to make a profit _and _get their revenge, but… it's hard to say which they'd favour if they had to choose," she replied. "Gringotts lost a lot of face over our actions - they prided themselves on having perfect security, and we certainly damaged that reputation. Repairing the damage we caused by letting a dragon rampage through the bank must also have been expensive."

"I see." Dumbledore nodded. "How, if I may ask, did you bypass their security?"

"We combined Polyjuice Potion with muggle disguises," Hermione told him. "That way, I looked the part at the entrance, and when the potion's effect was cancelled by the Thief's Downfall - a goblin invention - I didn't change in a noticeable way."

"How did you manage that?" Harry asked.

"We were fortunate that I was very close in height to my target, Bellatrix Lestrange. A veil and some padding did the rest, combined with specially cut clothes." Hermione grimaced a little. "It was still a close call, though - it didn't fool the protections inside the vault, and even though we overcame them, that tipped off the guards."

"A sticky situation, indeed. But you managed to escape - a feat few could have duplicated, I imagine." Dumbledore smiled widely.

"We were lucky that the goblins used maltreated dragons for security," she replied. "And it was extremely close even so."

"Muggle disguises… why hasn't anyone else tried that?" wizarding Fred wondered aloud.

"It was only recently - relatively - that Muggle disguises reached a level of sophistication which would allow them to pass a goblin inspection," Hermione explained.

"I guess they've also developed counters to shrunken intruders," Ron said.

"Yes. There are ways around it - but all of them require at least one person to pass the goblin identification checks," Hermione told them.

"Then it looks like we'll have to use the human element. Or goblin, in this case," Dumbledore said. He was smiling widely. "I'm looking forward to the challenge of turning a goblin."

"You want to bribe a goblin?" Wizarding Fred shook his head. "That won't work. They'll take your money, and then they'll sell you out to their superiors. And get a promotion in the process for foiling a wizard trying to rob Gringotts."

"I'm quite familiar with that particular danger. In my old business, every attempt to turn an enemy risked getting fooled by - or creating - a double agent. Nevertheless, I was successful more often than not. However, I've never done this with a goblin." Dumbledore beamed at them.

"You've never dealt with a goblin, have you?" wizarding George asked.

"No, I haven't. But that is easily rectified," Dumbledore said.

"If Dumbledore's long-lost twin brother appears, the goblins will assume something weird is going on," Ron pointed out. That would be counterproductive.

"Indeed. Fortunately, they won't meet a Dumbledore."

* * *

**Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, March 1st, 2006**

Gringotts did look very impressive. Wide stairs leading up to a front made of white marble, massive pillars decorating it, a gate that looked solid enough to stop a tank and armoured goblins guarding all the entrances.

And those were just the visible parts. According to Hermione and the wizarding twins, the building's wards were amongst the strongest in the country - and older than Wizarding Britain itself, only beaten, although soundly, by those of Hogwarts.

And even though the guards were wearing medieval-style armour and weapons, they looked rather impressive as well. "Goblins in half-plate," he muttered, "with polearms. If I'd brought this up in a game, you'd have called me a fool."

Harry, standing next to him, snorted. "We aren't playing games."

"Dumbledore might not know that," Ron said, watching the old man, disguised, walk up the stairs, in the company of Rosengarten. "He sounded like this was all a game to him."

"Well, he's risking his own neck, not ours," Harry replied.

Though Ron was convinced that if he and the others didn't have to stay out of Gringotts for a variety of reasons, they would likely be with Dumbledore at this moment.

As it was, Harry, Hermione and Ron himself were, in disguise, supposed to be the reserve element of this operation. Not that he thought that their chances of successfully intervening if Dumbledore got into trouble with the goblins were good - unless an altercation happened on the stairs, they would have to break into the bank to reach the old man, and that was a quite tall order for two muggles and one witch, no matter their combat experience.

On the other hand, it wasn't as if Dumbledore was trying anything dangerous - this was just the first contact, so to speak. And the old spymaster would be playing it straight - a squib, recently emigrated from America, looking to sell some 'family heirlooms', which the goblins would assume to have been looted in the last war on the East Coast. Nothing dangerous at all. Just a business transaction. And if he sold low enough, the goblins would be looking forward to his next visit.

But a good police officer always worried, even about things out of their control. Goblins weren't humans and would have a vastly different culture, and Dumbledore might be a little too smug or optimistic. Unlikely, but not impossible.

He felt a hand grip his own and suddenly realised that he had been staring at the bank in silence for a while. "Thanks," he whispered, smiling at Hermione.

She nodded in return. "They'll be alright. They have no known connection to me, and the goblins don't have a reason to suspect anything."

Well, she had experience with the goblins, so he was inclined to believe her. "Unless they think they'll make a net profit, all things considered, if they simply take all his 'wares', then claim he was trying to rob them. Since he's posing as a foreigner, they might be tempted to go for the short-term profit," Harry said.

"I trust Mr Dumbledore to convince the goblins that there's more profit for them if they work with him," Hermione retorted. "Assuming otherwise is mere speculation."

"He asked us to form a reserve in case something goes wrong," Harry told her. "He wouldn't have done that if he were convinced everything would go smoothly."

"He's covering all the bases," Hermione snapped.

"Or he just wants to know what we'll be doing so we don't ruin any of his other plans," Ron pointed out.

"Then we'd have Fred and George's counterparts here," Harry told him.

"They would ruin his plans out of sheer boredom," Ron shot back with a grin.

"They've matured a great deal, in my opinion," Hermione cut in. "I think their attitude is mostly an act now. They're businessmen, married and have a daughter."

Ron frowned. He wouldn't agree with that assessment - his own brothers certainly hadn't matured much. Although Hermione had a good point - having a family would have changed their counterparts. That, and the war they had lived through. Ron's brothers hadn't gone through anything like that.

"It doesn't really matter if they are genuine or putting on an act if they mess up," Harry said.

"They fought in the war; they wouldn't fool around on a mission," Hermione replied.

"Unless they thought it would be harmless?" Ron smiled wryly. His brothers weren't stupid, but a few of their mistakes had been dangerous. Like producing fireworks at home. Fortunately, the fire hadn't spread.

Hermione pressed her lips together and frowned at him. "They know that they can't underestimate the goblins. And neither can we."

There was no danger of that. Ron wasn't about to underestimate a magical species, whether or not they were allowed to wield wands.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 1st, 2006**

"...and the goblin, Mr Grimclaw, was most eager," Dumbledore told them with a sly smile in the briefing room in the lab. "Of course, his first offer was about a tenth of the worth of our 'heirlooms' - which is, even for a fence buying stolen goods, rather low - and we had to haggle quite passionately. I do believe I've impressed him, at least a little."

"Never show weakness to a goblin," wizarding Fred said. "That's what Dad always told us. That, and 'never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain'."

"That wasn't quite as useful as far as advice goes," wizarding George commented. "Though Mum's reaction when we removed all the mirrors from The Burrow was funny."

"Not as funny as Ginny's, though," his brother added. "Of course, that was before…"

"Yes," Hermione snapped, glaring at both of them. "And entirely beside the point."

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed. "I will visit the bank again in a few days, to sell more 'heirlooms', and I will see if I can ask about record keeping as well."

"As long as you don't give them ideas about manipulating records themselves," Rosengarten added. "That would be… problematic."

"I would imagine so, yes." Dumbledore smiled. "And while that might spur the Ministry to protect the records, it would hamper our own efforts." He inclined his head. "In any case, things are, so far, proceeding according to plan."

Ron really wanted to tell the old man that he had just jinxed them. And on Ron's birthday, too.

* * *

**The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, Britain, Wizarding World, March 1st, 2006**

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Ro-ons, happy birthday to you!"

Ron leaned forward with his counterpart, and they managed to blow out all the candles on the cake.

Of course, the twins had replaced half of the candles with joke candles that re-ignited as soon as they were out, but that was to be expected. Wizarding Ron cancelled them with a wave of his wand and Mrs Weasley scolded her sons.

And Hermione looked like she wanted to scold them as well.

"Not going to, ah, hex them?" Ron asked her, sotto voce.

She shook her head. "It would only encourage them, and it would be rude to do so in The Burrow. It's not my home, after all."

"So you'd do it at the lab?"

She snorted. "You're almost as bad as they are."

"I grew up with their counterparts." He shrugged with a grin. "Even Percy can hold his own against them in a verbal spar." Otherwise, Ron's brother would probably have gone mad.

"Ah." She nodded again. "Would you have preferred to celebrate your birthday at home?"

"I've celebrated most of my birthdays at home," he replied.

"That's not an answer to my question." She was frowning a little.

Busted. "No, it's not," he admitted. "But I don't mind celebrating my birthday here." Not really. "I couldn't go flying back home, could I?" He grinned.

"Well… if I disillusioned you, or if you used an Invisibility Cloak, you could. We've got the brooms."

"That's true. But I'd miss out on watching someone else's home being overrun and descending into chaos." He nodded towards the cake, which was under assault by half a dozen kids - well, five: Roger, Victoire, James, Jean and Beatrice - while Mrs Weasley valiantly tried to uphold tradition. "You can't cut it before the birthday boys have had the first slice!"

Uh oh. "Ron!" "Uncle Ron!" "Dad!" "You need to eat!" "We're starving!" "Don't forget the muggle Ron. We need both eating!" "Can't Dad just take two slices?" "That's not how it works!" "Please, Mr Ron!"

"Ron! What are you doing?"

"Luna?" Ron turned his head and saw that both Lunas, his own in a rather thin disguise, were glaring at him.

"I can tell you what he isn't doing: cutting the cake!" Luna said. "And unless you're currently busy saving the world, you've got no excuse for failing to do your duty and _cutting the cake_!"

Since wizarding Luna was twirling her wand between her fingers, it was probably - despite the 'no hexing inside' rule - safer to get on with it. Getting between Luna and pudding was never a good idea, and Ron didn't trust the various kids too much, either.

As soon as he and his counterpart had had their slices - Hermione insisted on testing them for pranks, though she didn't find anything - the kids all but climbed over each other to be next in line. Which quickly developed into a row, which kept the kids from getting any cake for a few more minutes.

Ron valiantly resisted the temptation to get another slice before the kids were sorted out by a rather loud Mrs Weasley. His counterpart didn't, he noted, which started a round of complaining, protesting and whining that only stopped once every kid had their share of cake.

And then the adults could enjoy their cake as well.

"It's remarkable," Ron commented as he finished his slice.

"Hmm?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Even with all the magic being thrown around," he explained, "it feels a lot like home. Actually, the biggest difference isn't the magic, but the kids."

"Ah, yes. None of your siblings has any children yet." Hermione looked pensive. "It's actually quite common for wizards to have kids early. At least in Britain."

"Ah. And it's different at home."

"Yes." She nodded. "Of course, witches who want to focus entirely on raising a family aren't the norm here, either." Her glance towards Lavender left no doubt that she didn't consider that a good life choice.

Ron nodded, even though he didn't entirely agree with her - raising kids who could accidentally curse you was a little more demanding than raising kids who, at worst, might accidentally set their room on fire. Granted, Hermione had told him that accidental magic was almost never actually dangerous - but that didn't mean it would never happen.

Still, looking at the Potter twins charming Mrs Weasley out of a third slice of cake, and Beatrice chatting animatedly with the Lunas, Ron couldn't help wondering if he'd ever have a kid or two of his own. And if they'd be a wizard or witch. And if he judged Harry and Ginny's expression correctly - with their disguises, it was a little difficult - he wasn't the only one wondering. Although… "Where are Roger and Victoire?"

Hermione looked around. "They were just here… I'd expect them to be asking for another serving of cake. That, or…"

A whooping noise from outside interrupted her, followed by Mrs Weasley yelling: "Roger! Victoire! Both of you get down at once! How did you get into the shed, anyway?"

Beatrice looked a little guilty, as did her fathers, but Ron wasn't sure if anyone other than Harry and himself had caught that.

Well, it wouldn't be a Weasley celebration without some excitement. "Want to go flying now?" he asked.

"I think that's a good idea," Hermione replied before looking surprised for some reason.

* * *

"_Come on! Let's fly!"_

_She didn't want to straddle the broom and fly. And not just because the broom Ron had handed her was old and, therefore, more likely to have defective enchantments. No, soaring in the sky sounded great - until you remembered that all that kept you from falling to your death were your hands and thighs gripping a thin shaft of wood._

_She blushed. That sounded almost like some of the passages in those romance novels she didn't read, but she was thinking about an actual broom. Not some… euphemism. "I don't feel like it," she said, raising her chin._

"_Are you sick?"_

"_What? No! I just don't feel like flying today!" Or any day until she learned a spell to keep herself from falling to her death._

"_Why not? The weather's great, the wind's a gentle breeze and Ginny isn't here to annoy us!"_

"_It's just… I don't feel like it!" she insisted._

"_But…" He frowned, then his eyes widened. "Are you afraid of flying?"_

"_No, I'm not!" she spat. She was merely appropriately cautious. "I took all my flying lessons last year, didn't I?"_

"_Well, yes, but the point of those lessons is that, afterwards, you can fly! And try out for the Quidditch team!" He beamed at her. "Think of it as an exam! You wouldn't want me to beat you in a test, would you?"_

_As if she cared about getting beaten at broom flying! But to be thought a coward or unable to fly? That would hurt._

_Gritting her teeth, she nodded. "Let's go flying."_


	64. Chapter 64: The Goblins

Once again, My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 64: The Goblins**

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 2nd, 2006**

"Well, Mum's not pleased about my decision to celebrate my birthday in another world," Ron said.

"What do you mean?" Hermione looked up from her ever-growing notes.

He held up the package with his birthday gift. "It arrived a day late, and the home-made fudge is half the usual size," he explained.

"Ah." She nodded. "The other Molly has similar ways of expressing her disagreement with certain choices. Although... didn't you explain that it was the safer choice to celebrate in my world?"

"She probably thought that was just an excuse," he replied. It hadn't been just an excuse, but it hadn't not been one, either.

"Ah." She shrugged. "Well, she'll come round?" She cocked her head.

"In time." Mum didn't hold grudges like Ginny - who still brought up certain events from their childhood when she was mad at him - did, but it took time for her to forgive. Especially if it might require her to admit she hadn't been entirely right about something or someone.

"Time… ask me for anything but time." Hermione sighed.

"We're working on everything we can," he told her. "Dumbledore's busy with the goblins, we're working on the Fidelius Charm…"

"And we still need a plan to test ways of destroying a Dementor," she said.

"That's not as urgent as providing the Ministry with enough funding that they can abolish Azkaban," he retorted.

"Bribing them to abolish Azkaban," she corrected him.

He shrugged. "As long as the prison is abolished... the end justifies the means?" He didn't have to point out that they had already broken a lot of laws dealing with the Russians and their stooges.

She frowned, then sighed. "I still don't like it. You shouldn't have to bribe the government to do the right thing."

"Don't tell our government that - some of the ministers might die from shock," he joked.

She didn't laugh. "I just want this to be over."

He hesitated a moment, then asked: "Do you feel responsible for it? Azkaban, I mean."

"No, of course not," she replied - a little too quickly, he thought. "I didn't install it. Or want it to continue. But if I could make it disappear and didn't do so, I would be responsible."

Ah. "Do you think your friends are responsible?"

Another sigh. "I don't think so. They're just… They have different priorities."

He made a noncommittal sound.

"I think they're just… too close to the Ministry."

"They're part of the Ministry," he told her.

"Yes." She frowned at him. "They're caught up in all the paperwork and the meetings and the presentations, and the budget numbers. All the politics. And they forget that certain things shouldn't be subject to compromises or deals."

"Slippery slope?"

"No!" She shook her head. "They're not corrupt - not in the sense of the saying. But they're… I don't know."

"Part of the system?" He shrugged. "Luna had similar problems with my choice of job."

"And you worked through it."

"Yes. For a while, we couldn't talk politics. Well, that wasn't unusual - Mum forbade talking about politics after Luna and Percy had a go at each other when they both were teens."

"I can imagine," she replied.

He snorted. "Yes. Anyway, we just… didn't talk about my job or her activities for a time."

"And that worked?"

"Well, we could always talk about books and games, TV shows, music, movies…" He shrugged again.

And she frowned again. "We didn't have much like that to talk about during the war. Harry and Ron had Quidditch, but… the muggleborn players had been banned, and that gave any talk of Quidditch a sour taste. And neither of them was much of a reader, not that I had many books with me that weren't needed for the war, so…" She closed her eyes. "We mostly talked about school. What we did and what we missed."

"Homework and studying?" He grinned at her.

She frowned at him but she chuckled as well. "Not often. And now both of them are married with children, and so…"

"...they talk about their kids all the time." Ron had experienced that himself with some school mates who had gotten married after finishing school.

"Yes, and I can't really contribute. I'm an only child, so I can't even relate to having siblings."

"Didn't babysit either, hmm?"

"No." The 'of course not' remained unsaid, but Ron still heard it clearly.

Yet… "Have you ever thought about having kids?"

"I don't have time for kids. Not with everything that needs to be done."

"I mean once you have the time," he said. "Have you ever imagined having kids?"

"Who hasn't, at least once?" She shook her head. "But it's all pointless if we don't resolve our current problems."

He nodded, and they went back to researching wordings for her spell.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 4th, 2006**

"I have good and bad news," Dumbledore announced. "I shan't ask you which you want to hear first, though," he added with a smile that was just a little less sly than his usual one. "The good news is that I have successfully confirmed that Gringotts has sealed copies of a number of records dating back centuries. Which is also the bad news."

Ron suppressed a groan.

Harry frowned. "They don't have copies of every single record, then?"

"No, they don't. Unfortunately, they have been keeping track of wizarding families, and the Weasley family is a rather old one as well as a prominent one, so I fear we have to assume that the goblins possess copies of the records we altered." Dumbledore sighed, though Ron couldn't help feeling that the old man wasn't quite as unhappy about this development as he was acting.

"That's a logical assumption," Hermione agreed. "And while they don't offer any of the services of a solicitor, it's quite obvious that knowing about inheritances and who is eligible for them might well be very profitable."

"Especially if they know who doesn't know about a vault they inherited," Ron added. The goblins could keep the contents of a vault if they were the only ones who knew an heir existed. Or they could sell the information to others - such as heirs lower down the line.

"But that means we need to break into Gringotts. Again," Hermione complained, sighing genuinely.

"Well, there are alternatives to breaking into the bank, although they require turning a goblin - and, as with humans, I don't think one should trust a traitor, even if they are working for one's own side, with crucial information. It would be too easy for them to turn that into leverage," Dumbledore said. With a smile, he added: "Therefore, I agree with your assessment."

"But that'll be very, very difficult. We managed it before, but our plan won't work again. They check for muggle disguises on the way to the vaults nowadays," Hermione told them. "I asked my friends. Without giving the game away," she added with a frown.

"Oh, I wasn't planning to copy your - quite effective and ingenious - plan, Dr Granger." Dumbledore's lips twisted into a hint of a smirk. "Although I am planning to use something you stumbled upon during your own mission."

Hermione blinked. "Dragons?"

"Correct."

"Dragons?" Harry asked.

"To be precise, the information that the goblins kept dragons chained up - and that one of the dragons went on a rampage inside the bank. You never found out what happened to the animal, did you?"

"It didn't break out of the bank, so I assume it was either killed or subdued;" Hermine replied. "But what exactly are you planning?"

Dumbledore's smile widened.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 9th, 2006**

_Goblins Torture Poor Helpless Dragons!_

_Statute of Secrecy In Danger Because of Gringotts?_

_Diagon Alley Was Almost Destroyed In Dragon Rampage!_

_Goblins: Die Unerkannte Gefahr_

_Gier der Goblins Gefährdet Drachen_

_Gobelins et Dragons: Un Mélange Explosif Pour Tout Le Monde_

"It looks like Dumbledore's media campaign is off to a good start," Ron commented after looking through the half a dozen newspapers and magazines on Hermione's desk.

"It seems so," she replied, pursing her lips.

He frowned a little. "What's wrong?"

"With the exception of The Quibbler, none of the newspapers or magazines is from Britain," she explained. "It's obvious that this is a campaign."

"As long as it leads to the result we want?" He shrugged.

"We could've kidnapped a goblin, interrogated them and then obliviated them," she said.

"If we found a goblin who knows what we want," he retorted. "Which is probably difficult." More difficult than finding a corrupt politician, at least. More dangerous as well.

"This just feels too... " She waved her hand. "Too complicated. Too convoluted. All this just to get someone inside the bank to look at the tunnels?"

"That's probably the point," he said. "Who would suspect us to go to such length?"

She raised her eyebrows. "My Harry and Ron?"

"But they won't oppose us, will they?"

"No, they won't. They already know we're planning something, but they won't stop us," she admitted.

They wouldn't stop her - Ron had no doubt that Hermione's friends would be acting differently if she weren't involved. "So what's really bothering you?"

She sighed once more. "Dumbledore's too smooth. Running undercover missions in Wizarding Britain? Now a press campaign involving the Americas, Magical Prussia and Magical France? A few months ago, he hadn't even set foot in this world."

He nodded with a wry smile that lacked any humour. "I wouldn't want him as an enemy."

"I don't want that either," she replied. "And he isn't our enemy. We have the same goals."

But what if their goals started to differ?

* * *

**Grimmauld Place, London, Britain, March 10th, 2006**

"You haven't played in any tournaments since last summer. Many experts are wondering about your ability to keep up with the top ten players on the Tour. How are you feeling about your chances?" The journalist asked, her notebook ready even though a recorder was running on the couch table in Sirius's living room.

Ginny smiled widely, but Ron saw that she was leaning back a little in her seat. She wasn't as confident as she was trying to appear. "Actually, I've used the time away to train hard - I'm fitter than ever!"

The journalist wasn't letting up, though. "But you haven't played a professional match in months. Such a lack of practice has often proved fatal for other top ten players trying to make a comeback."

Ginny showed more teeth. "Well, we'll have to see about that, won't we? I'm planning to give a good showing at the French Open."

"So you'll be using the time until then to acquire match practice?"

"I never play a game just to practice," Ginny retorted.

"Well, you certainly aren't lacking confidence. Now there've been a lot of rumours about your break. You dropped off the face of the earth, and with your boyfriend involved in the Granger affair, which shook Britain and culminated in several violent incidents with high body counts, you must have been under a lot of stress."

"Those were some very stressful months, yes. But that's in the past, now."

The woman leaned forward. "Anything in particular that was especially stressful?"

Harry, sitting next to Ginny, frowned. Ron did the same - this was supposed to be an interview for a sports magazine. But that question seemed to be more aimed at asking about the whole affair, not tennis.

Ginny, too, had realised that. "I'm not going into details. We're here to talk about tennis," she said. "Your next question?"

"Sorry. Since you haven't played in months, you've lost a lot of points and therefore fell out of the top ten. Has that influenced your choice of tournaments?"

Ginny smiled widely. "I've already secured a wild card for the French Open as well as for Wimbledon. People have been quite understanding about my circumstances, for which I am grateful."

Ron suppressed a chuckle. People understood how popular Ginny was - even or especially after her involvement in the 'Granger affair'. And there was no way Wimbledon wouldn't do everything they could to have the best female British tennis player take part in the tournament. The added notoriety would draw larger audiences.

He didn't quite tune out, but he relaxed a little as the next questions were focused on tennis again. Things were returning to normal, at least in this area.

* * *

Ginny sighed as soon as the door had closed behind the journalist. "I hate her! Did you notice how she was fishing for information?"

"She's a journalist; that's her job," Ron replied.

"Information about Hermione's portal, not tennis - she didn't even try to get any gossip about our relationship," Ginny added with a glance at Harry.

"For which I am grateful," he replied. "I'm also happy she didn't try to pry answers out of me."

"She probably knew it wouldn't work," Ron commented.

"And she thought it would work on me?" Ginny shook her head. "I've been handling interviews for years! There've been times when I've had more interviews in a few months than you've had in your whole life! Why would she think I would let something slip? I've got the most experience of handling the press out of all of us! I've got a good mind to call her boss and complain!"

"That would only confirm that you know classified information," Ron pointed out. "Or start rumours about another crisis between you two. Like when we were guarding that princess." That hadn't been a fun month for anyone involved.

"Don't remind me! That was your fault, anyway." Ginny huffed.

"My fault?" Ron stared at her.

"If you had been more seductive, the press would've thought she was having an affair with you instead of trying to pin it on Harry!"

Ron scoffed. "Really? You think I should've seduced a spoilt princess who made Malfoy look like a humble saint just to spare you some gossip?"

"Can we skip the sibling squabble?" Harry cut in.

Ron nodded.

"Alright," Ginny agreed after a moment. Then she turned to Ron again. "And how is the work on Hermione's big spell coming along, anyway? I would like to be able to play at Roland Garros without having to worry about being kidnapped by spies."

"We're working on the wording."

"You've been 'working on the wording' for weeks!"

"Well, you can't rush these things. If something goes wrong, it could have disastrous consequences. Like people forgetting about you," he added with a toothy grin.

"Well, _you _don't need a spell to be forgettable!"

"What did I just say about not doing this?"

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, Britain, March 13th, 2006**

"How are you doing?" Ron asked wizarding Fred and wizarding George - from the door of their recently installed laboratory, of course. You never knew when their experiments would have 'interesting' results.

"Hmm? Oh, we're doing fine, Ron - other Ron," wizarding George replied.

"Hermione's Ron," his brother added.

"And what are you doing?" Last he'd heard, they had finished their inspection of the magical defences, but Hermione wanted to go over their proposed additions before implementing them.

"We're working on stones that are enchanted with Muggle-Repelling Charms," wizarding George explained.

Ron frowned - he wasn't a wizard, and he wasn't an expert, but… "Isn't that already a thing?" he asked.

"Well, if it is, we haven't heard of it. Usually, such charms are cast on a place. Our method will allow you to cast them on a rock, and then take the rock with you."

"Or drop it off somewhere."

"Ah." That would provide some advantages to casting the spell. Although… "Is there a demand for that?" Wouldn't a Disillusionment Charm work better if you wanted to hide? Coupled with a Shrinking Charm? People suddenly avoiding a particular space would be distinctive to an observer - at least to other wizards.

"Well…" Wizarding Fred grinned. "We've got a huge pre-order for this."

"'Huge pre-order'?" Ron blinked. Who would… Oh, no! "Luna."

Both wizards nodded. "She wants as many of these rocks as possible. So we're looking into runes to make one spell affect multiple rocks," wizarding George explained. "That would greatly speed up the process."

And allow the Lunas to actually create the nature reserves they wanted. "You're creating these rocks here?" They would drive out everyone except themselves and Hermione!

"Oh, no! Not with the Muggle-Repelling Charm! Do you think we're fools?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Don't answer that, please," his brother added. "We're testing it with a warming charm."

"If it works, we can sell them as well. They should be quite popular in Scotland. Or in other countries."

"We're thinking of 'Hot Rocks' as a product name, but we're not yet sold on that."

Ron didn't care about the name for that product. He cared - very much, actually - that the twins and the Lunas had apparently met and made a deal. "And how are the Lunas going to pay?" he asked. Neither of them was wealthy, and making so many stones had to be expensive. Although if that slowed down their plans...

"They gave us the idea," wizarding Fred said. "And it has so many applications… I guess once we teach our Luna how to do it, we're even."

"And even so… imagine helping to fool millions of muggles into thinking they have no business in those areas."

Both wizards grinned at him.

Ron closed his eyes. This was… bad, he guessed. Very bad. Although it could be worse. If anyone ever gave them the idea of self-replicating spells or items… They better never read some of his science fiction novels.

* * *

Once Hermione and Ron were back in her lab while wizarding Fred and wizarding George were presumably trying to develop said items, he asked: "How likely are they to create self-replicating spells or items?"

Hermione blinked. "Oh my…" She bit her lower lip. "As far as I know, it's impossible. You can't create spells with spells. Although an item that casts a spell on an item… that should be possible. In theory. In practice… no one has managed to develop such an item, and given the constraints that the need to cast individual spells on enchanted items put on the wizarding economy, I think if it were possible, someone would have done it already."

Ron nodded, feeling relieved - mostly. He didn't like to brag about his family, but his brothers were quite ingenious. And so were their wizarding counterparts.

* * *

**Diagon Alley, London, Wizarding World, March 17th, 2006**

"I still can't really get over the fact that it took less than two weeks for the ICW to send an inspection team to Gringotts," Ron said as he watched almost two dozen wizards and witches enter the bank under the watchful eyes of the goblin guards.

Hermione, who, like him, was in disguise, snorted. "It isn't that surprising. First, Gringotts is technically a sovereign country, but isn't part of the ICW. Ever since the last of the goblin rebellions, Wizarding Britain has controlled its foreign policies, and Britain's standing in the ICW sank after Dumbledore's death and the war. While sending an inspection to Britain in response to newspaper articles would set a precedent no wizarding country wants, sending one to Gringotts circumvents that. The unwritten rules don't apply to goblins, apparently, and yet this will nevertheless be counted against Britain."

Ron winced. So their 'spy mission' had already damaged Wizarding Britain's international standing? They were off to a good start, and they hadn't even set foot in Gringotts. But… "And second?"

She took a sip from her tea. "Second, I'm quite sure Dumbledore greased some wheels, so to speak. At dinner last week, Percy was complaining about unexpected support for the motion proposing this inspection from the New World - among them the representative of the Free Republic of Maine and Vermont. Who, incidentally, is part of the inspection team."

"Ah." Ron nodded. Rosengarten's help, no doubt.

"Corruption is endemic in the magical world," she said.

"In the muggle world as well," he replied. Though usually a little more subtle, through lobbyists and lucrative contracts after leaving office.

"I'm aware of that," she told him. "It doesn't make it acceptable."

He didn't shrug. "At least we can use it for our own purposes."

She frowned some more. "We shouldn't have to."

"We also shouldn't have to break into Gringotts. For the second time."

She glared at him, but when he smiled at her in return, she - after a few seconds - sighed and smiled back.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, March 19th, 2006**

"Mr Blackburn was most helpful," Dumbledore said with a smile that was a shade more smug than usual, pointing at a set of floor plans on the wall of the lounge. "Working with him and Dr Granger, I believe we have managed to pinpoint the location of the Gringotts archives."

"It looks like it's all the way down on the lowest floor," Harry commented.

"Not exactly. There are more floors below that one - the oldest vaults, or so I've been told."

"And they decided to open up all the floors to one giant shaft?" Ron frowned. That meant the goblins had abandoned most of the security that digging so deep had gained them.

"It's more that the goblins didn't fill up the shaft - it was originally a mine, as far as we know," Hermione explained. "They converted the mining tunnels into vaults as they ran dry - originally for their treasures. After several wars, they had lost those treasures, though, and the reparations they were forced to pay were too high for their remaining revenue from mining. They could've sold their items - goblin-made tools of all sorts are very expensive - but that would've gone against their traditions, so they decided to offer their vaults to wizards."

"And people trusted them?" Ron shook his head. If anyone had proposed letting the Germans take over the banking business in London after the war…

"Wizarding Britain had beaten the goblins in every war - that's why they're called rebellions, not wars, in the official records," Hermione went on. "If the goblins had dared to betray their customers, the consequences would likely have been fatal for the goblins."

"That sounds like a recipe for abuse. What stopped the wizards from claiming the goblins stole from their vaults?" Harry asked.

"Scrupulous bookkeeping - and, most importantly, sealed copies of every single record," Hermione said. "Their copies of the muggle records don't go as far back as we feared, but they still cover over two hundred years."

Ron blinked. "And protecting those records meant protecting themselves against fraudulent claims from their customers."

Hermione grimaced. "Yes. We have to assume that they are better protected than most of their vaults."

That was, in light of the stories Hermione had told him about Gringotts, a very sobering thought. And how are we planning to do this?" he asked. It sounded as if breaking into Fort Knox - without magic - would be easier.

Dumbledore smiled. "We won't be breaking into the archives - we'll make the goblins deliver the records we need to us."

Oh. Clever - if it worked.

"You want to challenge their records," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded. "Twice, actually. Once so we can find out how their records look and how they are presented, and then again to switch or alter them." He smiled widely. "As I found out during my time as a field agent, it's far easier to break into the office of a Swiss court than into the vaults of a Swiss bank. I have no doubt that it is the same for Gringotts."

* * *

**Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, March 22nd, 2006**

Breaking into a Swiss court might have been easier than breaking into a Swiss bank's vault, but breaking into the Ministry of Magic wasn't child's play, either. Although it didn't compare to breaking into the Kremlin, in Ron's opinion.

And he wasn't entirely convinced that using muggle means 'because the Ministry will only guard against magic' was the best course of action. Even though it meant that he got to take an active part instead of yet another wizard. Wouldn't the magical defences work against both magical and muggle means, anyway? But Hermione was confident that this would work.

So he sighed as he listened to the over-eager young witch telling him all about how difficult it was for a muggle to buy property in magical locations. And 'difficult' meant 'impossible', from what he could tell - the clerk was just too polite to say so to his face. If he hadn't been Hermione's fiancé, he probably wouldn't have even been granted a personal meeting with even a junior clerk in the Ministry.

It didn't actually matter - he was only here so he could place a few bugs in the room - but it was still annoying. On the other hand, Wizarding Britain wasn't the only country trying to keep foreigners from buying up their real estate.

When the witch had gone through all the supposed problems of verifying someone's identity when they couldn't use a wand for the second time, he cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse me - do you know where I could get a glass of water? I'm feeling a little parched."

"Oh!" She all but jumped up - she was probably as tired of this charade as he was and needed the break since she didn't just conjure a glass of water. "Don't worry! I'll fetch you a glass! I'll be right back." Good. That meant he didn't have to step it up and have her call her superior to get her out of the room.

As soon as she left the room, Ron stood as well and stretched before wandering around, admiring the artwork on the walls - and hiding a few enchanted bugs the twins' counterparts had come up with inside the room.

By the time the witch - Miss Browtuckle, he remembered her name now - returned, his mission was done. All that was left was another twenty minutes or so of listening to her explaining why the wizards didn't want muggle neighbours.

He'd suffered through worse meetings in the past.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, March 24th, 2006**

Hermione sighed as she leaned back and paused the recording - which had been digitised from a film from a magical camera. The face of Madam Rosemarie Blinkelstorf froze on the screen. The old witch had been meeting with representatives of Gringotts regarding the ownership of her house and the surrounding area, which had been suddenly and surprisingly challenged. At least according to the documents she had been sent - the Ministry would be surprised about their actual origin.

Hermione pointed at the heavy chest, reinforced with metal bands, that two goblins carried inside, behind the goblin delegation's leader, with four more goblins guarding them. "If that chest is enchanted to block spells - and there's no reason to assume it isn't, given the rest of the security we've identified - then I don't see a way to switch the records before the goblins take them out to unseal them."

Ron nodded. "Not magically, at least."

"Yes." She frowned slightly as she looked at him. "Not to mention that we would have to copy the Gringotts' seal as well as the Ministry's seal."

"And that's not easy, I take it."

She shook her head. "Well, in the old Ministry, I would have said we could've borrowed the seal without anyone noticing, and then return it once we've prepared the fake documents. It would be very difficult today, I assume. But the Gringotts' seal? I wouldn't claim that it's impossible, but I don't know any method of successfully duplicating it. As with the enchantments that protect wizarding coins from being duplicated, the goblins guard those secrets very well."

"Hmmm." He rubbed his chin. "But they do need to actually unseal the documents. Otherwise, the records couldn't be read."

"You sound as if you have an idea."

He nodded. "I think I do. But it requires very precise timing - and for that, we need to prepare the room so we can alert someone outside."

She bit her lower lip. "That's… more complicated than bugging the place. The spells on the room prevent people on the outside from listening in - but they didn't prevent bugs placed inside the room from recording the meeting to be recovered later."

He nodded again - he had gathered that much.

"So, a device that picks up a signal inside the room, then moves outside to pass it on would work."

"That would work, but the delay it would cause would make the timing very tricky," he said.

"Better than impossible," she retorted. "But what's your plan?"

"A distraction at the moment that they unseal the records. Then we can switch them."

"A distraction outside the room but noticeable inside?" She didn't look convinced. "That's a tall order. And it might draw attention to the meeting."

"Not if it's easily explainable," he said.

"We can't let the twins do it; they'll be the main suspects," she replied.

"It won't be anything dangerous, just… noticeable," he explained.

"That will just make even more people suspect them."

"Well… if they're going to be suspected anyway…" He smiled at her.

She scowled in return. "Harry and Ron will investigate. And the twins aren't clever enough to fool them, no matter what they might think."

Ron wasn't entirely sure if she was right or if she was overestimating her friends. On the other hand, his brothers hadn't been able to pull his or Harry's leg ever since they had started being trained by Moody, so she was probably right. Hmm. Oh. "Well, then we'll have to ask the Lunas for a suitable distraction." He grinned. "Probably not a dragon going out of control, though - you already did that."

She gaped at him for a moment before she shook her head. "Absolutely not!"

* * *

**Unnamed Highlands, Scotland, March 24th, 2006**

"Absolutely not!" Wizarding Luna shook her head so vehemently, her hair was almost flying around her face. "We won't let you risk a poor defenceless animal as a distraction! The Ministry guards would hurt it! Or even kill it!"

"Told you so," Hermione muttered next to Ron.

He glared at her. She didn't have to rub it in. But he wasn't willing to abandon his idea just yet. "Are there any animals the Ministry wouldn't kill? Or couldn't?"

"That might've worked before the war," Hermione told him. "But the current Aurors and Hit-Wizards are fairly competent. And Harry and Ron could handle any animal. Even a dragon."

"We don't have a dragon anyway," wizarding Luna said.

"I don't want to use a dragon," Ron said. "What about bugs? A swarm?"

"They would definitely kill them," wizarding Luna replied.

"And some of the magical pests are dangerous. Doxies are venomous, for example. Enough of them could seriously hurt a wizard or witch," Hermione added.

"Alright." Ron rubbed his chin. "No using animals. But conjured animals aren't real, are they?"

"No, but you can't conjure magical animals," Hermione explained. "You could transfigure something into a magical animal, but it would lack their innate magic. In order to create, say, a dragon, you'd have to add a lot more spells to allow the result to not only look like a dragon but to be able to fly and breathe fire - and it would still lack the dragon's innate resistance to spells and curses."

"I'm not planning to use a dragon," Ron repeated himself.

"Well, a dragon as a distraction for the goblins would be a classic," wizarding Luna said.

"Which is probably why they don't want to use a dragon," Luna added. "Even though no one would think we would use the same trick twice, so it would actually help with hiding our involvement."

That would only work with conspiracy theorists, Ron thought. But they had clashed over that in the past, and he wouldn't rehash it. "I'd rather not risk it."

"And a realistic dragon transfiguration would be far too dangerous to unleash on the Ministry," Hermione said.

"You did unleash a real dragon in Gringotts," wizarding Luna replied.

"Yes. And I don't want to do it again."

Ron cleared his throat before the Lunas could push Hermione - it was obvious she didn't want to talk about it. "Anyway. A swarm of conjured insects. Say… locusts."

"Oh, yes!" Luna smiled. "Use the swarming African locust - they eat paper and parchment! Imagine the government with most of its paperwork eaten!"

"No!" Hermione protested. "Imagine the damage that would do to the Ministry's records! Their work would be hampered!"

That was Luna's aim, of course. "I think the Ministry employees could contain the swarm, couldn't they?" Ron asked.

Hermione pressed her lips together for a moment. "Well… they should. But they might not be fast enough to stop such a swarm from devouring the files in a department."

"That would be an acceptable loss. I suggest the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," wizarding Luna said. "They have the most intolerant policies with regards to magical creatures I've ever seen outside some enclaves in the New World. If not for pressure from the ICW and the business interests of potioneers, they might have eradicated several so-called 'pests'!"

"But they would be the quickest to react, wouldn't they?" Ron asked. "They would know how to protect their files."

"Most of them will probably be out, killing poor animals that just want to have a place of their own," wizarding Luna said.

"How do you plan to conjure such a large swarm without being noticed?" Luna asked.

"By preparing a 'cursed' object, I think," Ron said. "Like, say… a box that releases a huge swarm when opened."

"That sounds like something Fred and George would do," wizarding Luna said.

"And they would be the main suspects," Hermione pointed out.

"For the creation, yes - but not for its use." Ron grinned. "All they have to do is report it stolen."

"That sounds like a rather transparent excuse," Hermione retorted.

"That doesn't mean it won't work," Ron said. "As long as we avoid leaving traces. And leave the right traces for the Aurors investigating the theft. Besides, the other Harry and Ron wouldn't investigate the case since they're related to the victims, right?"

"Why wouldn't they?" Wizarding Luna looked surprised. "They'd know them best."

"The Ministry of Magic really needs better regulations for their Aurors," Ron muttered. "That would never fly in the Met."

"Don't tell me that you wouldn't have investigated a crime against your family." Hermione snorted as she frowned at him.

"Well, yes - but not officially," he admitted.

Hermione huffed. "Harry and Ron would realise who was behind this anyway as soon as they heard that your records were confirmed by Gringotts."

"Right." That meant they would have to ensure that the actual damage to the Ministry's paperwork was minimal. Oh, no! "Percy would know as well."

"Yes." Hermione smiled far too sweetly. "So… You better not use paper and parchment eating locusts. I suggest harmless but dangerous-looking animals."

She was right. Perhaps… "Death's-head hawkmoths!" he blurted out. "Harmless, but creepy!"

"Oh, yes." Hermione nodded. "That would work. A swarm of them would probably terrify some of the Ministry's employees."

"And the twins can claim that they developed it as a Halloween prank," Ron added.

* * *

"_You know, I can't shake the feeling that something important - and bad - will happen today," Harry said. "It's Halloween. Something bad always happens on Halloween."_

_She frowned. "We haven't established that there actually is a correlation between the date and the events we experienced on that date in the past," she told him. "It could just be a coincidence."_

"_Well, Halloween traditionally is an important date," Ron said. "Some spells and rituals are supposed to work best on certain dates. Mum always casts certain household spells on the summer solstice."_

"_Yes. It's also known as Samhain," she told him. "And some dark spells might be tied to the date - but that doesn't mean that something bad will happen to us."_

"_Not to us. To me," Harry said with a gloomy face._

"_None of the events which occurred on past Halloweens exclusively affected you." Really, sometimes Harry was a little… Well, it was understandable. "On our first Halloween, I was almost killed by a mountain troll, remember? And in second year, none of us was attacked, just Mrs Norris."_

"_Yes, but…" Harry shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling about today."_

_She suppressed a sigh. "Does your scar hurt?"_

"_No more than usual."_

_She nodded. Voldemort wasn't particularly active, then._

"_Mate, we're in the middle of a forest, protected by a lot of spells and wards. If the Death Eaters were able to find us, they would've done so already," Ron chimed in. He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Just relax. For once, we're safe from whatever might happen at Hogwarts. And so are all our friends."_

_Because none of them were at Hogwarts. But reminding them that the Death Eaters controlled the school would only make Harry feel worse. "Let's have a fancy dinner today," she said. At Ron's glance, she frowned. "I'm not suggesting I'll cook one."_

_He sighed in a very exaggerated manner that had her frowning and glaring at him - she was no chef, but she could cook just fine! But then she noticed that Harry was chuckling. Ah. She shook her head. "I suggest we use Polyjuice Potion and visit a restaurant. I know one in Wales, it's very good._

"_Wales?" Ron didn't look convinced._

"_The restaurant is French, with some Italian dishes on their menu," she explained._

"_Ah! Sounds good!" He beamed at her, and, after some prodding, Harry started to smile as well._

_Four hours later, they had to flee from the restaurant - Harry's scar was bleeding heavily, and he was screaming from the pain. And from what he had seen through Voldemort's eyes._

_Voldemort was in Azkaban. Sacrificing people in a dark ritual._


	65. Chapter 65: The Birthday Party

Once more, my beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. Their help is invaluable.

* * *

**Chapter 65: The Birthday Party**

**Black Lake, Scotland, March 31st, 2006**

"There was a break-in at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Someone stole a few prototypes from the store." Wizarding Ron, standing instead of sitting at the table in Ron and Hermione's room, stared at them - and, or so it seemed, in particular at Ron.

Ron privately wondered if he looked like that - had looked like that - when confronting suspects.

"Oh, no," Hermione said. "I hope they didn't lose much of their work - I know what it's like when you lose an experiment - though, with proper documentation, the damage should be limited."

"Do you know anything about it?" wizarding Harry asked.

"About documentation?" Hermione cocked her head, acting as if she was confused. She was trying a little too hard, in Ron's opinion.

And, judging by the glance her friends exchanged, they had seen through her act as well.

"Hermione," wizarding Ron said. "We know that there's something fishy going on. Fred and George aren't half as sly as they think they are."

"If someone had managed to break into their shop and steal their work, they would've been enraged - and concerned about their family's safety," wizarding Harry added. "They're great wizards, but they're not great actors."

"Why would I want to steal prank items?" Hermione replied. "You know what I'm working on."

"We know that the twins are working for you. Or for your Dumbledore," wizarding Harry told her. "And we know that this 'break-in' is just a cover."

"Plausible deniability," Ron agreed.

Both wizards were staring at him again. "'Plausible deniability'?" his counterpart asked.

"Someone stole the items from them. Whatever is done with them afterwards isn't the twins' fault any more," Ron explained.

"You're planning something," wizarding Ron said, narrowing his eyes at Ron before he frowned at Hermione. "And you don't want to tell us!"

"As Ron said: plausible deniability," she replied. "You can honestly claim you had no idea."

Wizarding Harry rolled his eyes. "We'll know as soon as we hear of whatever you've planned."

"But you won't have any proof," Ron pointed out with a grin, "so you won't be forced to act or break your oath or whatever you did when you took the post."

"Do you really think we'd come after you?" Ron's counterpart shook his head. "Merlin's balls, Hermione! You're our best friend."

"And you're mine - and that's why I don't want to force you to choose between me and wizarding law," she blurted out. "This is to protect you."

"That's just a technicality. We would still know you were behind whatever you're planning, and we would still decide not to come after you," wizarding Harry retorted. He leaned forward. "So, what are you planning?"

"We're involved in this now, anyway - we're the Ministry's best Aurors, so if we fail to solve a simple break-in, people will suspect us regardless," wizarding Ron added before Hermione could say anything. "Even though many burglaries remain unsolved. So we'll have to arrange a better cover for whatever you're up to."

Ron saw Hermione clench her teeth in annoyance. He could understand how she felt - hearing from his and Harry's counterparts that not only had they seen through their plan already but that said plan - which was mostly Ron's - wasn't just unneeded but also not very good? That was annoying.

But he wasn't a teenager any more - he could admit his mistakes. He didn't have to like it, though. "It was mostly meant to protect the twins," he explained. "We didn't think you'd be dragged into this like that." And Ron hadn't wanted to risk their plan by betting on their friendship with Hermione.

"Well, here we are," wizarding Harry said. "So what is this all about? We can't help you if we don't know what you need."

Hermione swallowed, then sniffled and then she went to hug both of them.

As moving as this was, Ron couldn't help feeling… not jealous. Envious. This had been his plan, and if it had worked, it would've been his success.

* * *

"...and that's about it. We're still working on exactly how to trigger the distraction," Hermione finished her explanation.

The two wizards nodded. "It's not a bad plan," wizarding Harry said.

"We've seen worse," Ron's counterpart added.

Ron managed not to sarcastically thank them.

"But the timing will be tricky."

We know that, Ron thought. "We can easily stall them for a few seconds after they've unsealed the records," he said. "Time enough for the bugs to swarm and the alert to be sounded."

His counterpart chuckled. "A swarm of death's-head hawkmoths in the Ministry - I know a few who'll wet themselves!"

"They're harmless insects," Hermione clarified. "They won't even bite anyone."

"Just scare them senseless." Wizarding Ron chuckled. "Oh, I can't wait to see it."

"That was another reason for not telling you," Ron said. "We wanted your reactions to be as authentic as possible." The other Ron wasn't a good actor, either.

Wizarding Ron waved his hand. "Don't worry - no one will be focusing on us when there's a swarm of large evil-looking bugs filling the room. And all to pull one over the goblins! The buggers deserve it - do you know they still hate us?"

"Yes," Hermione replied. "I've been avoiding the bank as much as possible."

"Anyway, we can help you with the timing. We could release the swarm in an out of the way room, and then open the doors and sound the alert just when you need it," wizarding Harry said.

That would be very helpful, Ron had to admit. Hermione didn't have to beam at her friends like that, though. It was still _his _plan.

* * *

**Ottery St Mary, Devon, Britain, April 1st, 2006**

"This is a bad idea," Ron muttered as he looked at his family home after closing the car door.

"It was your idea," Hermione told him.

"We can't skip another family celebration," he told her. "Mum wouldn't talk to either of us for _months_. And even Dad wouldn't be fine with it. And Fred and George might decide to hold a grudge as well if we skip their birthday." And that could spell disaster. The twins weren't wizards, but if they put their minds to it, they could cause a lot of trouble for just about anyone - especially since they knew the truth about Hermione and could exploit that. Which they totally would. They wouldn't actually betray them, but that was about the only line they wouldn't cross.

"At least we know that the building isn't under surveillance any more," Hermione said. "But Molly - my Molly - won't be happy, either."

"Well, we can't make everyone happy." He snorted. "Can you imagine trying to celebrate a birthday with all the Weasleys in attendance? Mum and her counterpart would drive each other spare!"

She chuckled. "I'd rather not imagine that."

"I doubt the building - whether magical or muggle - would be left standing." He took a deep breath. "Well, let's get this over with." At least the Lunas would be attending the other Weasley birthday party.

"I can feel the love for your siblings," she said, just as he rang the doorbell.

Before he could answer, the door was pulled open and Mum smiled at him. "Ron! And Hermione! Come in! Everyone else is here already!"

Which meant that they were considered late. Great.

"Ah, you finally arrived! Got held up in astral space?" Fred greeted him as they entered the living room. Which was packed, indeed - Harry and Ginny were on one couch and Dad was in his armchair, talking to Percy and Sirius. George, standing next to his twin, waved. Only Charlie and Bill were missing, and with both of them currently out of the country, they had been excused.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Happy birthday, Fred, George."

"Congratulations," Hermione added.

"Thank you! So, what did you bring us? A special gift, I hope?" Fred craned his neck rather theatrically as he peered at Hermione's beaded bag of holding.

"Fred! George! Don't harass them. We'll eat before opening the gifts!" Mum yelled from the kitchen.

"But Mum!" Fred protested - pro forma. That had been a rule for the twins' birthdays ever since they ruined the cake when the prank items Sirius had gotten them misfired.

"One of these days you might learn a little bit of patience," Percy added in a rather snotty tone.

Ron didn't mind the snottiness - it meant the twins were less likely to bother him and more likely to focus on Percy instead.

"Actually, yes," Hermione told the twins - after casting a privacy charm. "We do have some gifts from my world."

The twins' faces lit up with huge smiles. "What did you bring us?" Fred asked eagerly. "Potions? A broom?"

Hermione smiled sweetly at them. "That would ruin the surprise."

And their faces fell as they realised that now the waiting would be even worse. Something Hermione had intended, Ron was sure.

"We're all glad that you could make it," Dad told them.

"We wouldn't miss this," Ron replied.

"Two birthdays for the price of one - you won't find a better deal," Fred said.

"Unless you could have four birthdays for the price of one," George added with a grin.

Ron forced himself to smile at that alarming thought.

* * *

"Who wants another slice of the roast?" Mum asked later as they sat around the dining table.

"I'm good, thank you," Hermione said.

Ron was about to say the same, but Mum had already dropped a slice of roast beef on his plate and was serving the twins now. Well, her cooking was excellent as always, so Ron didn't really mind.

He did do his best to finish it, though - the twins were getting really antsy. Fred was in danger of straining his neck from the way he kept glancing at Hermione's bag.

"Too bad Luna couldn't make it," Mum said with a frown as she started collecting the dishes.

Ron knew better than to mention that Luna was celebrating the wizarding twins' birthday in the other world. Everyone was aware of it anyway. She'd get to fly on a broom again - he felt a little jealous.

Then Mum came back with a huge cake - chocolate with vanilla, topped with whipped cream. His favourite. Perhaps Mum wasn't as annoyed as he had feared.

The twins jumped up. "Let's blow out the candles!"

"Wait!" Mum bellowed. "Song first! And I expect you to eat like civilised people, no matter how eager you are to see what gifts you've gotten."

Before the twins could answer, the doorbell rang. "I'll answer it," he said quickly, standing up. He kept one hand near his pistol as he approached the door and looked through the peephole.

Luna was standing outside, smiling at the peephole. But… what was she doing here? She was supposed to be in the magical world!

"Hermione? It's Luna." That would warn her.

"Luna?"

"Yes," he replied as she joined him - he saw she had her wand drawn, half-hidden behind her back.

He opened the door. "Come in," he said.

"No sign and countersign?" Luna asked with a frown. "What would Moody say? I could be a terrorist in disguise!"

"We don't have a sign and countersign," Ron replied. Although they really should have one now that he thought of it. "And a terrorist would simply start attacking the house," he added to make himself feel better about the oversight.

"That's true."

"I thought you were… at the other party," Hermione said.

"I was!" Luna beamed at them. "And it was a great party."

"It's over already?" Ron asked. That was… well, he didn't know when it had started, did he?

"Yes! So we decided to see if yours was still going on!" Luna nodded rapidly.

"'We'?" Ron asked together with Hermione.

"We!" Luna replied, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small box. No, a shrunken trunk, Ron realised with a sinking feeling.

Before he could say anything, Luna had put the trunk down and flipped open the lid. A moment later, the other Luna appeared in the room with an almost headache-inducing twist of space as she stepped out of a trunk that was far too small to hold her. "Hello, everyone!"

"Luna and Luna?" Mum sounded confused. "I thought you were celebrating with the other Weasleys."

"We were!" Luna told her. "But that celebration finished, so we decided to come visit you and join yours!"

"'We'?" Ron asked again.

Before anyone could answer, another person stepped out of the tiny trunk: Wizarding Fred. Followed by his brother, their wife and their child. "Hello, everyone!"

Ron managed not to curse in front of Beatrice and his mum. The twins didn't. And neither did Ginny.

"Blimey!"

"Bloody hell!"

"Damn."

"Fred! George! Language!"

"Blimey! You sound like our mum!" wizarding Fred said.

"Of course she does," his brother added.

"You look like Gran, too!" Beatrice added. "But you're dressed funny!"

"Hello, Mrs Weasley. I'm Angelina Weasley," Angelina said. "And this is Beatrice, our daughter!"

"Hi!" The little witch beamed at Mum.

As one would expect, any annoyance or anger Mum might have been feeling about the sudden intrusion vanished at once. "Oh, how precious! Would you like some cake?"

Beatrice nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes, thank you!"

"You already had three slices," her mother pointed out.

"But this is a different cake!" Beatrice retorted. "Please! And we've travelled a lot!"

"Surely a slice can't hurt." Mum was already on the way to the kitchen.

And the little witch turned to Ron's brothers. "You look like my dads. But you're dressed funny too."

"I'll have you know that we're dressed very fashionably - for this world," Fred told her.

George was still staring - mostly at Beatrice, Ron noticed. Both his brothers seemed, well, more shocked than he would have expected - especially after asking to meet their counterparts so often.

"Your world dresses funny, then," Beatrice shot back and sniffed.

"But funny is nice - we're funny, aren't we?" George tried.

"But not in the good way!" the little witch told him. "Not like… oh, cake!"

"Does anyone else want some cake?" Mum asked as Beatrice stopped criticising fashion and started stuffing her face in a way that definitely proved that she was wizarding Fred and wizarding George's daughter.

And that gave Dad and Percy the opportunity to meet their interdimensional relatives - though Percy, probably with good reason given how Fred and George loved to prank him if they could manage it, cut his introduction quite short. Helped along by Hermione enlarging the living room and table so everyone could sit down.

* * *

"And you really married both?" Mum sounded like she still couldn't believe it.

Angelina nodded. "Yes."

"It's not actually that unusual," wizarding George said. "It's an old custom in Tibet."

"You married in Tibet?" Dad asked.

"No." Wizarding Fred grinned. "We just put down both of us as grooms when we filed the papers at the Ministry."

"And put a charm on it to keep anyone from altering the records until the deadline to contest it had passed," wizarding George added.

"And no, we don't know or care who's Beatrice's biological father," Angelina said in a tone of voice that suggested that she had been asked that question a little too often.

"It would be hard to determine anyway seeing as you're identical twins," Hermione explained.

"Well, it's certainly an unusual but fitting arrangement," Fred commented. "And a great prank!"

George nodded in agreement. "We never thought of that."

"We never found a girl to think of it with," Fred added.

"Oh. You've never met my counterpart?" Angelina asked.

"No," George said.

"Though we might now rectify that, having met you," Fred added with a sly grin.

Ron glanced at Mum. She looked like she couldn't decide whether she should be happy that the twins might be 'settling down' or outraged that they might want to copy their wizarding counterparts. Not that he thought that they were serious, anyway. But you never knew with the twins.

"Since there is no counterpart to Hogwarts in this world, the odds of everyone, no matter their family circumstances and geographical location, going to the same muggle school are quite low." Hermione shook her head. "It's already remarkable - and probably related to an effect I've not yet been able to identify - that Ron and Harry met at the same school."

"Or that we actually know the Creeveys and Malfoy."

"Though he is named 'Damian Malfoy' in this world," Harry pointed out. "And still alive."

"And a complete arse," Luna added. "He isn't a terrorist, though. At least as far as we know."

"Probably too much of a coward for that," Ron said.

"Hmm. I wonder if his blood would have gotten through some of the wards on Malfoy Manor," wizarding Fred wondered. "Did you ever test that?"

Hermione looked surprised. "No, we didn't. But we really should if we're going to open a portal to a new world. If it works, then blood-related security charms will have a glaring weakness." She took out a notebook and started scribbling in it.

"And we've lost her," wizarding Fred said. "If we want to test this with the Malfoys, I volunteer to collect the blood."

"There aren't any Malfoy wards left. Nor any Malfoy Manor," his brother pointed out.

"True. But we should still bleed Malfoy a little. He probably deserves it."

"Oh?" Beatrice piped up, which prompted Angelina to glare at her husbands.

"Well, perhaps we should talk about something else," wizarding Fred quickly said.

"Yes," his brother agreed.

"Yes." Luna nodded emphatically. "We should talk about what we can do to improve this world with a few good wands."

Ron winced.

* * *

"...so just a dozen cursed items would stop most of the worst corruption in the country," Luna finished. "If we pick the correct offices and items, then it won't matter who manages to cheat their way to power - they won't be able to do the bidding of either their oligarchy or their corporate masters."

"What about the Shadow Government?" wizarding Luna asked. "Is it active in Brazil?"

"Their manipulations would be similarly affected, but since they aren't aware of magic, they won't be able to counter it. And by the time they figure it out or get lucky, they'll have lost a great deal of influence," Luna replied. "Nature should have recovered, and the common people should have taken control of much of the farmable land and capital."

"That sounds a little too optimistic," Ron pointed out. It sounded crazy, actually. You couldn't take over a country with a few curses. Well, perhaps North Korea. But corruption didn't vanish if you cleaned out the top - it was endemic once it took root in a society. "The lower ranks of government, and all the corporations, will still do business as usual."

"Not if the government starts an anti-corruption purge," Luna retorted.

"That will get the government overthrown," Hermione said. She was scowling deeply. "Also, you can't just take over a country like that. Much less a foreign one."

"I think I've just demonstrated that it's entirely possible," Luna replied with a pout.

Ron saw Hermione take a deep breath. "I meant that you _shouldn't_ try to take over a country like that. Brazil is a democracy, not a dictatorship. And even if it were a dictatorship," she went on, cutting Luna off before the other woman could protest, "replacing one dictator with another isn't a good idea."

"But we wouldn't be doing that! All we'd be doing is ensuring that the government stays honest." Luna smiled.

Wizarding Luna nodded. "By cursing the right documents, we can ensure that anyone who breaks their oath of office will suffer a curse that will prevent them from further governing the country. We would just be doing our civic duty of preventing crime. Imagine if Fudge had been under such a curse!"

"He'd have dropped dead after a day in office," Hermione muttered. "But you can't just curse president after president! I mean, you _shouldn't_. All you'd achieve is further destabilisation of the government. And that means more corruption, not less. And more unchecked logging and other crimes."

"Well…" wizarding Fred spoke up, "we don't have to use a debilitating curse. We could use a modified version of our Patented Daydream Charms."

"Yes," his brother agreed. "If we make it give nightmares about breaking the law…"

Luna eagerly nodded. "That would be great! And a minor illness, so they have to stay in bed until they decide to be honest."

"You could also add some Pavlovian conditioning - reward them with good dreams if they do good," George suggested.

"I don't know what 'Pavlovian' means, but that sounds like a good idea," his counterpart said.

"Many members of Parliament and government employees swear an oath on a bible. If you put a spell on the right bible, they would be forced to be honest," Fred said.

"That depends on the oath," Hermione was quick to point out. "It could backfire and let a dictator control a country even more easily, as long as he stuck to seemingly legal orders." She shook her head. "We went over this with Putin: You can't just mind control foreign governments! The risks are too great!"

"That's why we won't touch their minds," wizarding Luna retorted. "We'll just punish crimes. That's perfectly OK!"

"And we let them learn their lessons," Fred added. "Also OK."

Ron turned to Percy, who had been uncharacteristically silent - as had Dad - during the discussion. "Percy! Tell them why this would be a bad idea!"

But his brother had a pensive expression instead of the shock Ron had expected. "Forcing the Cabinet and Parliament to be honest would actually help a lot without disrupting too much of the work of the government," Percy said. "Although it should be implemented subtly - as Hermione pointed out, the disruption from an unstable government would be much worse than the current state of affairs."

"You have to be very cautious," Dad added. "As much as I would love an honest government - and ours is doing quite decently…"

"Apart from their lies about the invasion of Iraq," Luna interrupted him with a deep scowl. "And all the lies about their other policies!"

Dad coughed. "Well, Her Majesty's Government isn't perfect, to say the least. But it's better than most."

"That's a really low bar, Dad!" Fred said.

"In any case, as in politics, slow but steady changes give the best results with the fewest disruptions," Dad finished.

"The environment doesn't have a few more decades for 'slow changes' to take effect," Luna protested. "Drastic action is needed!"

"Well, at the very least, forcing the judges to be honest should help," Percy said. "If the highest court is forced to be honest, that alone would have lasting repercussions."

There wasn't much Ron could say against that. And neither, it seemed, could Hermione.

Who would have thought that Percy would be someone who'd support the use of magic to manipulate others? After he had been the voice of reason and rules for so long?

* * *

A little later, Ron and Hermione had managed to get a little peace and privacy. The twins and their counterparts were swapping ideas for prank items, Angelina was talking with Mum and Dad, Luna was talking to Ginny and Harry about using their - mostly Ginny's - fame to promote protecting the environment and Beatrice was talking to Percy. About what, Ron couldn't fathom, but the little witch was apparently asking questions as fast as Percy could answer them, and Percy seemed to like the attention.

He turned towards Hermione. "Do you think they can actually do it? Influence the Brazilian Government to root out corruption and protect the rainforest?"

She sighed. "It's possible, but it's far more difficult than they believe. Or so I think, in any case - though it's not my area of expertise."

"They sounded pretty confident," Ron said.

"Too confident. Manipulating people with magic isn't easy. Unless you use the Imperius Curse. Which is why that curse is one of the Unforgivable - it's too easy to use. The victim will do whatever the caster wants, and usually without even noticing that they are being controlled while they are under the curse. And you already know the risks of memory manipulation."

He nodded. And didn't that say something about Hermione's world? There, muggles regularly got their minds wiped.

"Now, indirectly influencing people is a better approach - in theory. But people aren't Pavlovian dogs. Not to mention that associating a bell with food is a far cry from changing someone's behaviour by punishing them until they behave differently."

"Well, our penal system is partly based on criminals learning their lesson and changing their ways," he told her. "And punishment is part of that."

She sniffed. "That's different. If the Brazilian president or one of their ministers break or bend the law, they won't just stop because they get hit with a Headache Jinx or a cold whenever they do so. They won't associate the curse with the crime. And making them feel bad and guilty about breaking the law is much harder than simply creating a magical contract that curses them with a hex or jinx. But even if they did start feeling guilty, they're unlikely to change their ways - many criminals feel bad about breaking the law yet continue to do so for a variety of reasons."

"Well, some don't feel bad at all," he told her. "Some love breaking the law." He had encountered a number of them.

"Yes. And some corrupt politicians will feel that what they are doing is OK. My point is that you can't just change minds like that."

"So that's why you and Percy argued for a subtle approach?"

"I don't know Percy's motivation - he wouldn't know about the limits of magic - but in my case, yes."

"But the twins' counterparts would know about those limits, wouldn't they?"

She nodded. "They should - they took their N.E.W.T.s."

"So do you really think they won't know or realise that this plan won't work?" He raised his eyebrows.

She pursed her lips in response. "I think they will have realised that more obvious methods won't work - and will do more harm than good."

"I hope you're right," he replied. "It's scary what you could do with magic in a world without magic."

"Well, technically, magic does exist in this world. If it didn't, spells wouldn't work regardless of whether or not you had a wand," Hermione explained. "But as far as I can tell, in this world, no creature or organism ever evolved that could use magic." She frowned. "I don't know if the absence of magic users or their existence is more likely overall."

"Well, you might find out as you find other universes," he told her.

"It's one possible area of research - though I think focusing on dimensional travel is more important and productive than a more academic research topic."

He nodded in agreement. Visiting other worlds was certainly more appealing - and more exciting - than knowing whether or not worlds usually had wizards and witches. He sighed. "I'm still worried about, you know…" He nodded towards the twins, then at Luna. Wait… "Where's Luna's counterpart?"

Hermione looked around. "Perhaps she went to the bathroom. Or she stepped outside for a moment."

"Or," Ron said, wincing as he saw wizarding Luna reappear in the middle of the room, holding a cage with a dodo - no, a Diricawl - inside, "she just went to fetch an extinct animal to show off."

Said animal promptly disappeared from its cage.

"Fiddlesticks!" she complained, wand in hand. "I thought I could cast the Anti-Apparition Jinx before Mr Dada realised where we are."

"Where is it?" Hermione snapped, drawing her wand.

"He can't have gotten far," wizarding Luna said. "Their ability to apparate is limited to places they know, and he doesn't know this place."

But that meant…

"There!" he heard Beatrice yell, followed by the sound of someone crashing against the shelves next to the telly. And the sounds of dozens of DVDs tumbling to the floor. "Ow!"

Hermione whipped her wand around. "There! No more Apparition!"

"Beatrice! Sweetie, are you alright?"

"Ow!"

"Where's the bird?"

"Mr Dada! Mr Dada! Please come back - you can't survive here; it's much too cold in winter!"

"Is it outside?" Ron checked the windows. He couldn't see any sign of the bird, but that didn't have to mean anything.

"My kitchen!"

That was Mum! Ron whirled and dashed towards her voice, followed by everyone else. He drew up short at the door and winced - the Diricawl was all over the kitchen, flapping its wings and jumping from the counter to the table and back, scattering spices, flour and any food on either surface.

"The poor dear! Not being able to apparate must have frightened him! Mr Dada! You're safe!"

The bird didn't listen - but faced with half a dozen people, it stood no chance. And a few spells fixed the kitchen and the living room.

"Luna! What were you thinking?" Hermione glared at the other witch as soon as she had finished restocking the DVD shelves.

"I was thinking that Beatrice wanted to see a Diricawl. And that Mr Dada would like the trip - he was getting restless in the habitat."

"Yes, I did!" Beatrice confirmed.

"You brought a bird that was known to be restless?" Hermione asked with obvious exasperation.

"Yes!" Wizarding Luna beamed at her. The bird, which she held in her arms - with some difficulty - was still trying to escape, but she seemed to ignore that. "He's quite lively."

"How did you even transport it without it apparating away?"

"Oh, he wasn't trying to escape when I stepped outside. But seeing so many people must have spooked him. Poor Mr Dada - don't worry, they won't hurt you!" She cooed at the bird. And Beatrice copied her, reaching out to touch its feathers, which triggered more squawking and escape attempts.

Ron sighed. That wasn't an auspicious beginning for the Lunas' project.

"I think I'd rather break into Gringotts again than attend another birthday party for Fred and George," Hermione muttered next to him.

He nodded in agreement.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, April 5th, 2006**

"We call it the 'Signal Silverfish'," wizarding Fred announced as he opened a small box that contained what looked like a dozen dead insects. Very realistic insects.

"How does it work?" Hermione asked, peering at the things.

"These will listen for a signal. Upon hearing it, they'll travel the set amount and repeat the signal. Perfect to get word out of the area covered by a privacy charm," wizarding George explained. "We wanted to make them send the signal, but we couldn't figure out how without triggering security charms. They monitor the Wizarding Wireless these days, you know."

"We can use a Protean Charm if you can make them climb over a coin or something," Hermione said.

"Oh! We should've thought of that!" Wizarding Fred nodded. "And Harry and Ronniekins have the counterparts."

"One of them should suffice," Hermione said. "KISS."

"Kiss?"

"K.I.S.S. It stands for: 'Keep it simple, stupid'," she explained.

"Well, we're not stupid," wizarding Fred replied. "Not any more. Just ask our dear wife. And Harry and our dear little brother might object to being called stupid as well - as Aurors, they are obliged to call the Hit-Wizards that."

"With some justification, mind you. If the Hit-Wizards had been competent, the war would've gone differently," his brother added.

"Certainly fits our brother, though. And Harry can be a little dim as well - remember how long it took little Ginny to get him to notice her?" wizarding Fred asked.

"Oh, yes. 'Stupid' definitely fits them. Let's use it." His brother nodded sagely, then grinned at his own joke.

Hermione sighed. "Can we focus on the matter at hand or do I have to hex you?"

"Alright. No need to become violent."

"Well, I'd argue that she's already violent."

Hermione raised her wand.

"Alright, alright! Let's focus on our latest invention!"

"And our next project will be the chill pill! Guaranteed to imbue the target with a temporary sense of humour!"

"You'll need a Confundus Charm to go with that since your jokes aren't funny," Hermione retorted.

"Ow! Cut to the quick!"

"Slander!"

Ron sighed. The wizarding twins were talented, but their attitude… He was glad they wouldn't be working with them on the upcoming mission, but with his and Harry's counterparts instead.

* * *

**Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 7th, 2006**

Ron's wig itched slightly, and the makeup felt as if someone had put plaster on his face, but it was the inserts in his mouth that were the worst - even though they made masking his voice easy; it was a miracle anyone understood even half of what he was saying, not that he was actually saying much.

Unlike Hermione, who was similarly disguised - this time as a blonde with skin straight out of a tanning salon. Or a tannery, in a few more years. Her 'Californian' accent was atrocious, but the Ministry representative - Celeste Brown, a pureblood according to their intel - didn't seem to notice. "Will the banker, like, arrive, anytime soon? We've been here for hours!" she complained between chewing gum and twisting her wand between her fingers.

"We've been here for fifteen minutes, Mrs Withersbury, and the meeting is scheduled to begin in two minutes. Representatives from Gringotts are generally extremely punctual," Brown said with the sort of strained smile common to low-level clerks dealing with difficult customers.

"Fifteen minutes? Like, are you sure?" Hermione didn't close her mouth as she chewed more gum. "It felt, like, hours. Can't the goblins be early?" She tried to twirl her wand but dropped it in her lap.

It was a miracle, in Ron's opinion, that they hadn't already been thrown out given the attitude they were displaying, despite the rather high expediency fee they had paid. But Hermione had been right - as a pureblood employee, Brown wouldn't dare throw out a foreign muggleborn witch trying to get an inheritance in Britain that might've been stolen by British purebloods. Even or especially if said purebloods were the Lovegoods - the Ministry was painstakingly avoiding even the appearance of favouring anyone.

"As I said, they are extremely punctual, Mrs Withersbury."

Ron could hear the 'née Stanley, you uppity gold digger' tone without Brown having to express it.

"That's, like, so rude - don't you think so?" Hermione used the tip of her wand to scratch her scalp.

Brown's polite smile grew even more strained, though Ron didn't know if it was because of Hermione's abuse of her wand or her tone. "The goblins have different customs which may often appear as rudeness to wizards and witches."

"Well, why don't they, like, adapt, then?"

"You would have to ask the goblins, Mrs Withersbury." Brown's smile showed most of her teeth this time.

"Perhaps I will - this is really not decent service." Hermione huffed and popped a chewing gum bubble.

Brown looked like she wanted to draw her wand and make the gum - and perhaps Hermione - vanish. Or burn.

Fortunately, the door opened at this moment, and the goblin delegation marched in.

"There you are!" Hermione blurted out. "I was wondering if you'd, like, forgotten the meeting!"

Brown winced. "Greetings, Fleshripper."

The goblin in charge scoffed. "Let's get this over with. Time is money."

"That's what, like, my husband always said. When he was still alive," Hermione cut in. "So, can we, like, step on it?"

Ron really hoped that no one present had actually been to California. Or watched one of the better TV shows set there.

Fleshripper glared at her as if he'd like to step on her. With a scoff, he turned to the two goblins carrying the chest and nodded once. They put the chest down on the table, which creaked in response. "We're here to unseal the birth records of Ottery St Catchpole, eighteen hundred and fifty-one to nineteen hundred to verify that there was no Ottokar Lovegood born in the Lovegood family in eighteen hundred and seventy."

"No, we're like, here to prove that my husband's ancestor was born here!" Hermione protested.

The goblin ignored her and bit into his fingertip, then touched several gems set in the chest's front in rapid order with. The chest opened, and he pulled out a rather thick file with two prominent seals - Gringotts' and the Ministry's. He let it drop on the table with a sneer. "I state for the record that we're unsealing the files at the request and in the presence of a representative of the Ministry of Magic."

"Err, yes," Brown said, clearing her throat. "I confirm the request and I have the seal here as proof." She presented an old-fashioned seal.

The goblin grunted again and drew a dagger, which he used to break the Gringotts' seal. Brown drew her wand and tapped the Ministry seal.

"You don't use a dagger?" Ron asked, triggering the Signal Silverfish.

This time, she openly frowned at him - then again, he was supposed to be the muggle lover of Mr Withersbury's widow. "It's traditional to use a wand to unseal a file," she said.

Ron nodded, counting down the seconds. Two. One. Now.

Fleshripper was just reaching for the file with a scoffing grunt when the alert sounded outside, followed by screaming.

Hermione gasped and jumped up, pointing her wand at the door in a sweeping motion. "We're under attack!"

"No!" Brown yelled. "That's the magical accident alarm. It's not an attack."

"A magical accident? We're all going to be cursed!"

Ron resisted the urge to stare at the file. Even knowing in advance how Hermione would mask her silent switching spell, he hadn't noticed any change.

"No, we won't - this room is sealed," Brown told her. "We're perfectly safe."

"Sit down, witch, and let us finish this or we'll charge you a late fee!" Fleshripper growled.

"Why, I've never met such rudeness!" Hermione gasped again but sat down.

Fleshripper bared all his very sharp teeth in a smile while the rest of the goblins chuckled.

Ron resisted the urge to smile at them. They had no idea they had just been fooled.

* * *

As Ron had expected, as soon as the records had proved that whoever Mrs Withersbury's British ancestor had been, they hadn't been born a Lovegood - something both Brown and Fleshripper took great delight in rubbing Hermione's nose in - they were almost thrown out while the alert was still sounding outside.

And as soon as the alert stopped, Brown genuinely smiled at them. "You can leave now, Mrs Withersbury. Right now, to be exact. We wouldn't want to waste time, now would we?"

Hermione gasped. "Why, I never…" But she stood. "Come on, Bob! Let's leave these rude people!"

Outside, the Ministry was still not back to normal - they had to walk through throngs of employees, all with their wands out, repairing what looked like craters in the walls and destroyed desks. On several floors.

Ron held his tongue until they had reached the designated Apparition point, but as soon as they reappeared in the Forest of Dean, he shook his head. "What happened?"

"I guess a few employees overreacted to the sudden moth attack," Hermione said with a grimace. "We - Harry, Ron and I - should've expected that. A number of Ministry employees fought in the war, and this might have triggered them."

"Oh." Yes, in hindsight, they should've expected that. Ron hoped that no one got hurt during the distraction.

Then he saw that Hermione was still shaking her head, staring at the forest.

* * *

_She was on the floor, hand grasping for a wand that wasn't there. She was helpless - she was dead. She couldn't fight. She had to flee. She had to..._

"_Hermione! It's alright! It was just an accident. A car accident."_

_That was Mum! No, not Mum - Ellen. She wasn't at home. She wasn't in the war. She was stranded in another dimension._

"_It's alright, Hermione. Can you stand?" Ellen was reaching down to her._

_She nodded in response, gripping Ellen's hand as she stood. It had been an accident. And not even a serious one - just two cars colliding at low speeds as one or the other driver hadn't paid attention. Both drivers were already shouting at each other._

_She took a few deep breaths. She wasn't in the war. She wasn't in any danger. She was safe._

_She didn't feel safe, though. Not without a wand._


	66. Chapter 66: The Prison

My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.

* * *

**Chapter 66: The Prison**

**Black Lake, Scotland, April 7th, 2006**

"So the records were successfully exchanged?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "My Switching Spell worked perfectly." She put a sheet of parchment down. "I've also checked the original - our altered copy should hold up under every scrutiny."

"Good. Then, after a small delay, we can proceed with our plan to make the Ministry abolish Azkaban."

Hermione nodded. "And I can focus on finding ways to eliminate any possibility of Azkaban being restored. Which means destroying the Dementors - a challenging task."

"We best wait until the Ministry has cleared the island, though, before we grab a test subject," Ron said. "Otherwise, they'll go on a hunt for the missing monster."

"No one's gonna miss a Dementor," wizarding Fred said.

"They would," Hermione retorted. "Since a missing Dementor generally means it is loose in Britain."

"And the average bureaucrat will care just because they want their inventories in order," Harry added.

"Have you seen Larry? He's a Dementor, slightly used, likes to cuddle." Ron chuckled.

Hermione frowned at them both. "It's not a subject to joke about."

"Sorry," Ron apologised. "But we tend to joke about anything dangerous and disgusting."

"Comes with the job," Harry said.

"But your job nowadays is to guard our little sister's counterpart, isn't it?" Wizarding Fred grinned. "And you have to joke a lot?"

"Ha ha," Harry replied in a deadpan voice.

"Perhaps we should have the two Ginnys meet," Ron wondered aloud. "Have them compare notes."

"Perhaps we should focus on our task," Hermione cut in.

"We were - Ginny's got such a fiery temper, two of her might be enough to burn a Dementor," wizarding George said. "Also, did the Death's-head Drop Box work as planned?" He grinned. "Just for our secret notes, mind you."

"As far as we know, it worked a little too well," Hermione said. "People panicked and used curses on them - quite damaging to their surroundings."

"Oh." The twins looked taken aback for a moment. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"I don't think so," Hermione told them. "But I don't know."

"Ah." Wizarding Fred nodded. "Well, Harry and Ron aren't here yelling at us, so it can't have been too bad."

"If it had been 'too bad', they would still be too busy helping," Ron pointed out. After a large-scale incident, it could take hours before you could leave the scene of a crime. Unless your superior sent you away because you annoyed them.

"Good point," the wizard admitted. "Slightly disturbing and worrying, but good point."

"Do Patronus Messengers travel across dimensions?" his brother asked.

"No, they don't," Hermione said.

"Ah."

"Such a spell would have greatly facilitated matters, I believe," Dumbledore said.

"Yes. I could've created a ritual to cast it, and let my friends know I wasn't dead," Hermione replied.

Ron pressed his lips together. That would have likely resulted in the other Ron waiting for her. And in Ron never meeting her. "Well, it doesn't work," he said. "So… how long until I'm supposed to bribe the Ministry into doing the right thing?"

"I would say a week." Dumbledore nodded at his own words. "That should be enough time to avoid suspicion - though it will take more time for the goblins to decide whether or not they want to unseal the records to check."

"Sooner if they have copies of their own," Ron pointed out. He would, in their place. "They might want to throw suspicion on us anyway."

"I doubt that," Hermione retorted. "Claiming that sealed documents they have kept safe were altered? That would significantly damage their own reputation."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "Just as many firms prefer to pay off extortionists rather than admit that they have suffered a security leak in order to avoid losing the trust of their customers, I don't believe, after my interaction with Gringotts, that the goblins would risk that. However, I do think they'll suspect us - or rather, you, Dr Granger."

"They already hate me, so I don't think that will change anything," she replied. "In any case, we should focus on Azkaban now - and the Dementors."

"So… a lot of people have tried to find ways to destroy Dementors for centuries," wizarding George said. "Do you really think you can find one?"

"My backup plan is to find another dimension empty of life and send them there," Hermione said. "One way or the other, Dementors will be gone from our world. But I don't believe that they cannot be destroyed. If they were truly immortal, they would have overrun Britain long ago. They certainly wouldn't have agreed to stick to the island and feed on a few prisoners if they could have fed on all of Britain instead. So, they can be destroyed. We just have to find out how. Even if it means starving them."

"How do you propose to starve them?" wizarding George asked.

"Not feeding them prisoners would be a great start," she said.

"And it seems that they cannot cross water," Ron added. "That means they can't leave the island without help. We don't know, though, what happens if they are forced into water."

"That will be amongst the first things to test," Hermione said. "Salt water, fresh water, running water, for starters."

"Oh, if we're talking testing…" Wizarding Fred grinned widely. "We've never been able to test our products on a Dementor."

Ron blinked and glanced at Hermione, who met his eyes with a surprised expression.

That was… well, it actually sounded like a good - or at least decent - idea. Or entertaining, if dangerous.

* * *

**Black Lake, Scotland, April 8th, 2006**

"So, the distraction didn't go entirely according to plan," wizarding Harry said in the lab's lounge. "The swarm was a little larger than expected."

"A lot larger," wizarding Ron interjected. "It was bloody huge - I think it could've filled an entire floor if it hadn't split up and hit three floors."

"Well, you opened it and then left it for some time," wizarding Fred said. "That's not covered by the warranty."

"We offer warranties for our products?" his brother asked with exaggerated surprise.

"Well, no, so since there is no warranty, it certainly can't cover anything - but most definitely not user error." Wizarding Fred nodded. "I say we blame Harry. And Ron."

"But we always blame Ron, don't we?"

"So there's no reason to stop, is there?"

"Very funny," wizarding Ron said with an eye roll.

"Can we get on with this without the comedy routine?" wizarding Harry glared at the two wizards. "So, when the moths filled the rooms, people started to panic. A few started casting Vanishing Charms, but many others ran - or used other spells, like curses. Fortunately," he added with a grimace, "no one was seriously hurt, and the damage to the Ministry could be repaired."

Ron winced a little - wizard standards for 'seriously hurt' were a lot laxer thanks to magic. He should've thought of that. Wizards weren't less likely to panic than muggles just because they could do magic.

"Well, St Mungo's treated more people with Calming Draughts than with healing spells," Ron's counterpart said. "Worst panic since the war, the Healer in charge told us."

Hermione winced. "Sorry. That wasn't the idea."

"Well, perhaps now they'll value Aurors a little more," wizarding Harry said.

"Or Hit-Wizards," wizarding Fred added with an innocent smile.

"None of them were there," Ron's counterpart told his brother. "By the time the greycloaks arrived, we were done with the 'attack'."

"It's considered an attack?" Hermione sounded concerned.

"Technically, it was," wizarding Harry pointed out. "Kingsley thinks it was meant as a statement against the Ministry and the Weasleys, seeing as someone broke into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and then into the Ministry. Obviously, anyone able to steal from you would've been able to get past the Ministry's wards."

"Obviously," wizarding Fred said with a wide and entirely too-proud grin.

"So you've been tasked with tracking down the culprits?" Ron asked.

"Until further notice," his counterpart replied. "Too bad we can't frame anyone for it - I know a few people who could do with some prison time."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped.

"I'm joking!" The wizard chuckled. "Don't worry."

She huffed in return. "I can't tell any more."

"Anyway, we'll investigate the usual suspects for a while and wait until something more important pops up, at which point the investigation will be shelved," wizarding Harry said.

"So when will you bribe Kingsley to abolish Azkaban?" wizarding Ron asked.

"We'll offer to finance a more humane prison in about a week," Hermione said primly.

"It's still a bribe," her friend insisted.

She huffed again.

"Say, where's Dumbledore?" wizarding Harry asked - whether he really wanted to know or merely wanted to change the subject, Ron couldn't tell. But he knew where Dumbledore was. "He's handling a board meeting." Grindelwald had been insisting, or so Ron had heard.

"Ah."

"He'll be back meddling in Wizarding Britain soon enough, don't worry." Ron grinned, even though it wasn't that funny.

Then again, neither was Azkaban. And since the wizarding twins and the Lunas were about to meddle with this world, turnabout was fair play.

* * *

**Ministry of Magic, Whitehall, London, Wizarding World, April 15th, 2006**

"I was under the impression that you weren't wealthy, Mr Weasley." Shacklebolt frowned as he stared at Ron and Hermione. They had expected that - he had been an Auror before becoming Minister, after all, and any cop would be suspicious of sudden influx of money.

"I don't like to brag," Ron said. "But I was raised by my uncle, who was quite wealthy - and I am his sole heir."

"And you want to spend your wealth on… reforming Azkaban?" The Minister looked at them even more suspiciously.

"On abolishing Azkaban," Ron corrected him. "And it's not all my wealth, rest assured. And even if it were - if it makes Hermione happy…" He beamed and wrapped his arm around her waist. "I agree with her that such a crime against humanity is a stain on the country's honour, and if Wizarding Britain cannot afford to remove it, then it behoves concerned citizens to step in."

Shacklebolt glared at him, then stared at Hermione. "What's your game?"

"I don't play games, Minister," she retorted. "But my _goal_ is to abolish Azkaban and see a humane prison system established instead. No matter what it takes." She huffed. "I trust you won't refuse our generous offer, will you?"

"Think of it as an investment - you'll need more employees to run the new prison, and constructing it will inject money into the economy as well," Ron added.

Judging by the glances Hermione and the Minister sent him, that wasn't as good an argument as he had thought.

But he could also see that Shacklebolt would be giving in - even if it went against the former Auror's instincts. As a politician, he had no choice and knew it - refusing such a generous donation without a compelling reason? That would cost him a lot of political capital and popular support. Especially with Hermione involved.

Ron leaned back with a smile.

* * *

**North Sea, Wizarding World, April 20th, 2006**

"A ferry." Ron shook his head - not for the first time.

"Yes. We're on a ferry. We have been on it for an hour," Hermione replied. "What a surprise."

"Sorry." He grinned at her, despite the cold wind and light rain hitting his face. "I just can't get over the fact that with brooms, the Floo network, Apparition and Portkeys, you'd use a boat to get to Azkaban. It's just so… muggle."

"It's an enchanted ferry," she told him. "You don't think a muggle ship this size would make it through rough weather on the North Sea?"

He didn't think so - the ferry was barely twenty feet long if you counted the rudder. And the waves were often higher than the deck - or railing. Yet water never reached the deck, waves never crashed down on the ship as she cut through the water. But… "I'd be more impressed with the spells on this if they also kept the rain out."

She snorted in return. "That was by design, or so I hear - to have most prisoners arrive wet and cold."

"What about the guards?" He nodded at the two wizards in grey cloaks standing at the stern, one gripping the tiller.

"Azkaban is widely seen as a punishment detail."

"Ah." That made some sense.

"Or they're expected to provide their own spells to keep dry and warm."

That made more sense. Still… "Sounds like fertile ground for recruiting traitors," he said. "If the Ministry sends them to guard the prisoners, and if the prison is as nasty as we've been told…"

"...worse."

"...then that's a recipe for bonding amongst the inmates and guards." He still couldn't see the island, much less the prison.

"The Dementors supposedly kept the guards honest. Until Voldemort turned the Dementors," she told him.

"And the traitors are back guarding the prisoners?" He shook his head once again.

She shrugged. "You know what I think of that decision."

"Yes, I…" he trailed off. An island had suddenly appeared in front of them - out of nothing. A rocky, ugly island, barely more than a jagged mass of stone sticking out of the sea, with a massive tower on top of it.

"We've passed through the wards," Hermione explained - unnecessarily.

He nodded, then shivered - the temperature had just dropped by several degrees. At least his GPS receiver would have logged the exact position of the island before it stopped working.

One of the Hit-Wizards spoke up for the first time, her voice slightly distorted by the privacy charm Hermione had cast on them. "Welcome to Azkaban."

* * *

**Azkaban, North Sea, Wizarding World, April 20th, 2006**

If anything, the actual island was worse than the trip across the North Sea. It was wetter and colder - they had to climb a narrow stairway carved - or cast, he reminded himself - into the cliff, with the wind battering at them and covering them with foam from the waves breaking against the rocks below. But they made it to the top of the island.

Yet things didn't improve. The temperature dropped even more, and it seemed that even the low light of the sun peeking through the fog and clouds surrounding the island dimmed with every step he took. He felt as if the cold had seeped into his bones. What was he doing here, anyway? He was just a stupid muggle. Unable, unworthy, to do magic. Hermione was probably just staying with him out of pity. Once it wouldn't look bad, she'd drop him and pick a wizard. And he would be all alone, his career ruined, forced to...

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione yelled, and a translucent white otter appeared that glowed brightly - and shot forward as if it were swimming through the air, chasing fish.

Ron laughed, suddenly feeling warm again. And happy.

"Blimey," he heard one of the Hit-Wizards behind them mumble. "A corporeal Patronus."

"Look at them flee!" the female Hit-Wizard exclaimed.

And he realised that he had met Dementors without seeing them. He would have been helpless. Killed while wallowing in self-pity, surrounded by invisible monsters preying on his memories, sucking out his soul...

He shuddered again.

* * *

The actual prison was even worse than the island. As cold and wet - or so it seemed - and it didn't just look like a medieval dungeon from the outside, it _was_ a medieval dungeon. There was a portcullis, for heaven's sake! A magically lowered and raised one, but still!

"Ah, Miss Granger." A heavy-set wizard in grey robes greeted them in the middle of the small yard inside the tower with the hint of a nod and a much more pronounced sneer.

"Hit-Wizard Parkinson." Hermione didn't even bother nodding. "You're our guide?"

The man's sneer turned into a scowl. "I'm the Head Warden of Azkaban. I'm not a tour guide."

"Then who will be our guide? I'm here to inspect the prison, not to stay out here and engage in chit-chat until the Dementors return and I have to chase them off again." Hermione scoffed.

"Inspect? You want to close the prison down!"

"Exactly. This place is a stain on Wizarding Britain, and it needs to be closed down." Hermione glared at the man.

"You've got no idea what we do here. Without us, the most dangerous dark wizards would easily escape - and the Dementors would roam free!"

"I honestly doubt that. Now tell me who's going to show us around - we don't have all day."

Parkinson looked like he'd rather curse her, but he jerkily nodded towards another, younger Hit-Wizard. "Runcorn."

This wizard, at least, was smiling when he greeted them. "Hello."

"Hello." Hermione simply nodded at him, though Ron returned the smile. He didn't know if the friendliness was genuine, but it didn't hurt him any to return it. And it might make the wizard underestimate him.

"So… what do you want to see first?" the Hit-Wizard asked, glancing over his shoulder - apparently to check if Parkinson was watching or leaving.

"The cells," Hermione told him. "From the ones where criminals with lesser sentences are imprisoned to those with the inmates serving life sentences."

"Ah." Runcorn grimaced for a moment. "It's not an official divide, you know? We just lock the ones who won't be here forever in the upper cells." He nodded towards the door to the side. "Please follow me."

"I thought they would be less exposed to Dementors," Hermione asked as they followed.

"Ah, that is sort of true. The Dementors generally spend most of their time in the lowest dungeons. I've been told that they rotate the island patrols, but…" He shrugged. "Who can tell one of those monsters from another? Even after five years here, they all look the same to me."

"You've been stationed here for five years?" Hermione inhaled sharply.

"Yes, ma'am. Well, half and half - we get rotated through the Ministry, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade half the time, the rest we spend in Azkaban."

"All of the Hit-Wizards?" Hermione asked. "Or merely those from certain families?"

"Uh." Runcorn grimaced again. "All of the younger Hit-Wizards. The higher ranks aren't part of the rotation."

"And why's Parkinson here?" Ron asked. That wizard was far too old to be a new recruit or rookie.

"I don't know for sure…" Runcorn shrugged. "Some say it was this or getting fired. Others say he's here to either torture the Death Eaters or help them."

Those didn't sound like trustworthy sources to Ron. But then, the rumour mill in any department was generally to be taken with a grain of salt.

They entered the tower proper, and Runcorn pulled out an amulet from under his robes, letting it dangle like a necklace. "This will keep us safe."

"I'll chase away any Dementor that dares to approach us," Hermione said, brandishing her wand.

Ron didn't feel too reassured, despite her impressive demonstration outside, and Runcorn grimaced again. "Well, I, for one, am looking forward to the prison closing down," the Hit-Wizard said. "If only to be able to sleep peacefully again. Here on the island, the nightmares are the worst."

"One would expect Mr Parkinson to feel the same," Ron not-quite-asked.

"He's got the topmost office and quarters; he rarely leaves and so he rarely encounters Dementors," Runcorn told them as they reached a spiral staircase. "But if Azkaban is abolished, he might lose his position."

"Won't he get to be Head Warden in the new prison?" Ron asked.

"He's got too many enemies in the corps," Runcorn said.

"Typical." Hermione muttered something about short-sighted fools as they descended the stairs and found themselves in front of another portcullis, a smaller one this time.

"Behind this is the cell area. The portcullis keeps the Dementors from entering our part of the prison," Runcorn explained.

"You don't trust them," Ron said.

"No." The wizard shuddered. "The brass never confirmed that the Hit-Wizards who vanished on the island were killed by the Dementors, but… whether they were or committed suicide, it's the fault of those monsters."

"And Parkinson wouldn't want people to think he can't control the Dementors," Ron said. It was far colder here than just a flight of stairs above. He could almost see his breath.

And this was the top level of the dungeons.

"So… here are the first cells for first offenders. Uh, sorry - kind of an inside joke." Runcorn knocked on a wooden door, peered through the barred opening at eye level, then opened the door. "Shelby. Six months for repeatedly endangering the Statute of Secrecy."

"I'm innocent… I was framed." The voice sounded raspy. Rough.

"That's what they all say," Runcorn replied, flicking his wand and causing a light to appear in the middle of the cell.

The wizard in worn but decent robes sitting on a thin mattress threw his arms up, like a vampire in a movie, and cried out. The cell looked clean, Ron noticed. There even was a desk and chair, with a few books and parchment, though the bucket in the corner looked rather ominous.

Ron saw Hermione tense. "How long have you been here, Mr Shelby?"

"He's been here for…" Runcorn trailed off at her glare.

"I… I don't remember. W-who are you?" The prisoner coughed several times, then spat out some phlegm on to the stone floor.

"Hermione Granger." After a moment, she added: "I'm here to check up on the prison. We're building a new prison, without Dementors."

"A new prison?"

"You'll be out before it's finished," Runcorn said.

Shelby started to laugh, then coughed. And didn't stop.

Hermione glared at Runcorn. "He needs a Healer."

"They get weekly visits," the Hit-Wizard replied. But he wasn't looking at them, nor at the prisoner, as he spoke.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Show us the other floors."

Runcorn swallowed before nodding.

* * *

The next floor was worse. The cells were the same - identical, actually, down to the desk and bucket - but the prisoners…

"Malcolm Geerson. One year, robbery," Runcorn said as he opened a door. He hadn't knocked or called out to the prisoner, Ron noted.

And when he saw Geerson, he knew why. The wizard was staring at them with unfocused eyes. And the stench…

"Sorry," Runcorn mumbled, before waving his wand. The stains on the prisoner's robes disappeared. "He doesn't use the bucket any more."

Ron clenched his teeth and breathed through his mouth.

"Hello, Mr Geerson," Hermione said.

The prisoner didn't react - he just kept staring at them.

She stepped closer, waving her hand in front of his face. The eyes didn't track her fingers. "He looks like he's been kissed," she spat, turning towards Runcorn.

"No, no! He wasn't kissed! Honest! He just… A few months ago, he stopped caring. And talking. A Healer said he was lost in his memories, or something like that." Runcorn shrugged. "Can't do anything about it."

"That's…" Hermione shook her head, then stomped out of the cell.

Runcorn followed her with a grimace. Ron took a last look at the prisoner, then left the cell as well. Bloody hell!

"So…ah… Marigold Merryweather. Two years for casting a dark curse at her neighbour."

The witch inside the cell was sitting in a corner, hunched over, knees drawn up and arms wrapped around her shins, slowly rocking back and forth. And mumbling something under her breath.

"We're coming in," Runcorn announced.

And Merryweather started screaming, turning towards the wall, hitting it. No, trying to claw a hole into it.

"Uh… it's one of her bad days," Runcorn said. "She usually doesn't scream until the Dementors make their rounds in the evening."

"Don't let her hurt herself!" Hermione snapped.

"Ah… alright."

A moment later, a red spell hit her, and the witch stopped moving. Stunner - Ron recognised the spell.

"Are there any prisoners who aren't…" Hermione glared at Runcorn, then gestured at the two cells they had visited. "...like them?"

"Ah, well…" Runcorn coughed. "Maybe Karl Travers."

"Travers?" Hermione asked,

"Not the main family. Cadet branch. He was given two years for using dark magic on muggles," Runcorn said. "He's been here for nine months, over there."

The wizard walked past a few cells - ignoring the moaning and wailing from one of them - and knocked on the door at the end of the hallway. "Travers! You've got visitors!"

"Vi-visitors? Mum? Is that you, Mum?" A sniffling voice asked.

Ron saw Hermione wince. "No, Mr Travers, I'm not your mother." She glared at Runcorn, who quickly opened the door.

Travers was still sobbing when they entered. "Mum…"

"Hello, Mr Travers."

The man looked up at them. "Who're you?" He blinked at Hermione. Then he spotted Ron and started screaming. "You bastard! You bastard!"

Ron saw the prisoner rush towards him with outstretched hands and reacted without thinking. He ducked to the side, grabbing one of the man's arms in the process, then used that to throw Travers to the ground, ending up with the arm in a joint lock.

"You bastard! I remember you! I...AHHHH!"

A little more pressure on Travers's arm made him stop struggling and start sobbing again.

"Ah… He was arrested by Autor Weasley," Runcorn explained. "You look a little like him, and after months here, his memory isn't the best any more…"

"Mum…"

"And he's one of the prisoners in better shape," Hermione said in a flat voice.

"He cursed a muggle family. A neighbourhood dispute," Runcorn said. "Crippled one of them."

"And that makes it OK to torture him?" Hermione shot back.

Runcorn's surprised expression left no doubt that his answer was obviously 'yes'.

"Show us the others!" Hermione spat.

* * *

After half a dozen more cells - filled with prisoners in various degrees of mental degradation, as far as Ron could tell - Runcorn led them down a flight of stairs to another portcullis. "And this is the area for the lifers - those prisoners who were sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban. Death Eaters, basically."

"How many are there?" Ron asked.

"Half a dozen, if you count Skeeter;" the Hit-Wizard replied.

"Skeeter."

"Yes. She doesn't have the mark, but she was helping them in the war."

"I'm aware of her actions," Hermione said. "I fought in the war."

"Of course! Sorry!" Runcorn flushed. "Do you want to see her?"

Ron saw that Hermione hesitated for a moment before she nodded. "Yes."

"The Dementors patrol three times a day here," Runcorn explained as the portcullis was raised. "So…" He shrugged.

Ron had a decent idea of what awaited them, and he wasn't wrong. The prisoners here were either catatonic or mad. It was far colder than upstairs, too. And the stench…

"We clean them and the cells once per day," Runcorn said. "But…" He shrugged.

Hermione scoffed. "Where's Skeeter?"

"Ah… this way. You know, as an animagus, she posed a bit of a problem for the Warden," Runcorn said. "Especially as a beetle. Hard to keep a bug locked up, right?" He opened a door.

Keeping a bug locked up wasn't very hard, Ron found - provided it was stuck in a glass jar.

"You're keeping her in her animagus form?" Hermione asked in a clipped tone.

Ron noticed how tense she was - and how tightly she gripped her wand. Runcorn, fortunately, couldn't see that from where he was.

"Err… It was deemed the best solution," the Hit-Wizard said. He grimaced, so he, too, had realised how angry Hermione was.

"Who decided that? And why?" She glared at Runcorn with narrowed eyes.

"The Head Warden, after talking to Skeeter." The man coughed. "Err… he said - he, I'm just repeating his words - that this way, we didn't have to worry about her escaping the cell when we entered it or fed her. And the prisoner wouldn't suffer as much from the Dementors," he added quickly.

"Was that also a concern for the Head Warden, or did you just think of it?" Ron asked.

The man stared at him as if he had forgotten Ron was present. "Uh… In any case, it's true."

Hermione scoffed. "Keeping an animagus for years in their animal form! That's… that's…" She shook her head again.

"Sirius Black did it, and he was fine," Runcorn pointed out.

"He was anything but fine," Hermione retorted. "And he didn't spend the entire time in dog form without a break - and he certainly wasn't kept in a cage for dogs!"

"But…" Runcorn pressed his lips together.

"Did anyone verify that Skeeter agreed to this?" Hermione looked at the glass jar again. The beetle inside didn't seem to have reacted to their presence at all.

Runcorn didn't answer, which was answer enough.

Ron eyed the jar. "Do we get her out and ask her?" He wasn't exactly serious - he was a police officer, well, a former police officer. You didn't just take a prisoner out of their cell. Although this situation might be an exception.

And Hermione was considering it - he could see her bite her lower lip before she raised her chin slightly. "No. We have no idea about her state of mind. And she might try to escape - especially if she has lost her mind."

Ron nodded and tried not to grimace. To be stuck as a bug for years. Living, sleeping, eating like a bug. Stuck in a jar. Which was in a damp, dark cell. Nothing to read, nothing to do but think - if you could still think. He had read stories about people stuck in animal form. Fictional stories, but still… He shuddered as a cold shiver ran down his spine.

And he kept shivering. Wait… "Are there Dementors nearby?" he asked.

"No - they only come by three times a day, on this level," Runcorn said. He blinked. "It can't…"

"It feels like the Dementors," Hermione said, already raising her wand. "Expecto Patronum!" she yelled.

Once more, a silvery, translucent otter appeared and floated in the air for a few seconds before shooting out of the door into the hallway.

Ron thought he heard some faint hissing, but he wasn't sure. The cold receded, in any case - not that it felt at all warm. And the bug was scrambling up the walls of the jar. "That got a reaction," he said, nodding at the beetle.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, then took a step closer, peering at the beetle. "Did she recognise the spell? Or is this just an instinctive reaction to a bright light? Do you understand me, Miss Skeeter?"

The bug kept flailing its legs against the glass and flaring its wings.

"Inconclusive," Ron commented.

Hermione frowned at him for a moment before she nodded in agreement. She turned to Runcorn. "We've seen enough. The conditions in this prison are appalling. And it seems that you don't have as much control over the Dementors as you think you do, either, if they can roam the prison without your knowledge."

"Ah… we're not actually supposed to be in the hallways when the Dementors patrol," Runcorn replied.

"You mean when they come to feed on and torture the prisoners," Hermione corrected him.

Runcorn opened his mouth, then closed it again, pressing his lips together.

"Look, we know it's not your fault," Ron told him. He ignored the huff from Hermione. "But you're the guy leading us around, so you get to hear our comments. So don't be afraid to speak up."

Runcorn still hesitated for a few more seconds, then took a deep breath. "These are Death Eaters and other dark wizards. People who've tortured and murdered others. Why do you care so much about them? They tried to kill you, didn't they? And they killed your friends."

"Yes, they did," Hermione said. "Though Skeeter's guilt is somewhat in dispute. But that doesn't mean we should treat them as they wanted to treat us. We're supposed to be better than them."

Ron nodded, though if he was honest, then he couldn't say what he'd be feeling if those Death Eaters had gone after his family - or had murdered friends of his. Though he hoped that he'd draw the line at torture.

No one deserved Dementors.

* * *

The monsters appeared twice more on their way back to the tower above. Not that Ron ever saw them - he only felt the cold, felt his thoughts turn dark, then saw Hermione recast her Patronus Charm, which drove the Dementors away.

"I can see you have the Dementors under complete control," Hermione commented once they were finally past the portcullis that separated the dungeon from the rest of the prison.

"They… this has never happened before," the wizard replied. He looked quite pale and was still shivering a little.

"Did the prisoners complain about the Dementors visiting whenever they want?" Ron asked.

"They always complain about the Dementors," Runcorn told him. "So… we… it's usually assumed that they lost track of time. After a while, they become incoherent, anyway…" He grimaced.

Hermione huffed again. "Of course they would… _if they are constantly being fed upon_."

Runcorn flinched. "We didn't know that. We had no idea about that."

"Do you even have a headcount for the Dementors?" Ron asked. "Or did you just count the ones outside?"

Once more, the sudden silence was enough.

"Great," Ron muttered. "It's Jurassic Park all over again."

Hermione snorted, but Runcorn looked confused. "Pardon?"

"A movie," Ron explained. "Where a similar lack of oversight and control led to disaster." And to a box office hit.

"It doesn't matter. It's a good thing that the prison is going to be shut down - the conditions of the prisoners are appalling, and it's obvious that no one has a clear idea of what's actually happening here," Hermione said.

And Ron had a feeling that the lack of accurate information extended to other areas as well. Especially areas where an enterprising guard could skim money. He wasn't a wizard, but some things were the same whether you had magic or not.

But that was a matter for another day. For now, he wanted to leave the island. News of Hermione's assessment would spread quickly, and he would prefer not to find out the hard way whether or not the Head Warden was willing to arrange an accident to cover up his negligence - or even worse crimes. "Let's leave," he said. "I'm freezing."

Fortunately, Hermione understood what he meant and didn't argue. "Yes. Let's leave."

"Err." Runcorn was wincing again. "I think the Head Warden wanted to see you afterwards."

"Really? He didn't say anything to me," Hermione replied. "And I don't want to see him right now. I fear I might lose my temper and curse him."

Runcorn smiled weakly. "I understand."

"Do you?" Hermione cocked her head. "Better late than never, I guess. Lead us to the pier. Expecto Patronum!"

Escorted by the otter swimming through the air, they weren't bothered by any Dementors on the way and, one climb down a very steep set of stairs later, they were back on the ferry.

As they left the pier, Ron studied the cliff again. Scaling it would be hard, but they could take the stairs - he was sure that the guards didn't post anyone at the pier, especially not at night. And they knew the Dementors roamed the island, not just the dungeons.

Yes, capturing one of the fiends shouldn't be too hard.

He glanced at Hermione, who was glaring at the island. "Just like last time," he heard her mutter. "I expected better of them."

Ron had an idea who she was talking about.

* * *

"_No! You can't just assume that everything's alright!" she yelled, slamming both her palms on the table. "That's not how things work - that's a recipe for corruption!" Why didn't her friends realise that?_

"_But, Hermione…" Ron started. "How would elves be corrupted?"_

_Oh, for the love of… "Not elves! Their masters!"_

"_Dumbledore?" Harry asked, cocking his head with a puzzled expression. "I don't think he'd let the elves be abused."_

"_And how much do you think he would know? You've met elves; they're even worse than you."_

"_What?" Harry blinked._

"_They would never complain to us," she explained. "If you ask them, they'll say they're fine." They had said so to numerous inquiries from her. "Just like you."_

"_Oi!" Ron protested as Harry blushed. "You can't compare Harry to an elf."_

"_In this area, yes, I can." She nodded firmly, then glared at her friends. "And that's why we have to observe them secretly, to find out the truth."_

"_You mean… spy on them?" Ron asked._

"_Observe them," she corrected him. "It's for their own good. We can't help them if we don't know what they need."_

"_Sounds like spying to me," he grumbled._

_She huffed. "Well, it's not!"_

_Then she turned to Harry. "We'll need your cloak, and we'll have to work in shifts. I've made a schedule that will allow us to observe them without cutting into our homework time." Ron opened his mouth, and she quickly added: "I've also taken the time needed for Quidditch practice into account." Grudgingly, of course. But some things her friends wouldn't budge on, no matter how important their task was._

"_Alright. But I'm telling you, they're fine."_

"_We shall see. Trust, but verify," she quoted._

_Not that she had a lot of trust left for this particular part of Wizarding Britain. To think the elves were forced to have their memories wiped if they ever left a wizard's service… They could be abused horribly, but wouldn't even remember it!_


End file.
